Silver and Gold
by Sarzie Connie
Summary: Sequel to 'Diamonds and Emeralds'. Please read other first of this won't make any sense. Mild language and violence. Reviews Appreciated.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

One thing James Moriarty could never be accused of was not being thorough. He was, as Sherlock had described, a spider in the middle of a web, completely aware of the action of every thread. This was why faking his death had been so easy.

A blank bullet, a sound reactive patch of fake blood and moderate acting ability plus putty on the pulse points all gave to impression that he had shot himself on that rooftop all that time ago. He had a sneaking suspicion that Sherlock may have done the same so he waited for news of his return; he didn't have to wait long.

A little over a month after the two mean were declared dead, one of his people got in contact, saying that Sherlock was looking for Colonel Moran. Jim had to admit he was thrilled by the news. A nemesis with equal intellect was always a fun and interesting thing. He was mildly concerned about Moran's wellbeing but knew him to be a capable man and gave him the order to kill.

There was radio silence for five months. Moran never contacted him and no-one had any news of the detective, until a text message arrived, clearly sent by the colonel himself. Moriarty read it and sighed.

_He knows where I am. Will most likely come before the night is out._

_-SM_

The criminal mastermind lazily left his house, headed to the factory where he knew Moran was hiding. He had no doubt that Sherlock didn't stand a chance. He merely wanted to see the body himself, hopeless and alone, to lift his spirits.

When he arrived on foot, walking the last half a mile, he saw Sherlock and hid behind a nearby tree. He watched the man walk in a smiled, knowing that would be the last time he'd see him alive. He resolved to wait fifteen minutes before entering. But then he saw her; a young woman stepping out of a cab. She looked far too thin and pale to be healthy. She looked both ways before running into the building, clearly following Sherlock.

Slightly more concerned, Jim decided to stick to his original plan of waiting. Not five minutes had passed before he heard the unmistakeable sound of a gunshot echoing through the building's walls. He smiled and closed his eyes, believing Sherlock Holmes was no more. He sat there for another few minutes, not wanting to enter to early, when he saw them; Sherlock Holmes carrying the body of the woman who ran in after him.

He was too far away to see for himself but he assumed she had been shot, no doubt stupid enough to take the bullet for the man. He smiled and watched as Sherlock called an ambulance for her, resting her head on his knees, before Jim turned and went into the abandoned factory, wanting to get the full story of the nights events from Moran. However, he wasn't prepared for the sight he was met with.

The body of Sebastian Moran lay on the ground, bleeding from a bullet wound to the neck. He let a saddened sigh pass is lips but that was a mournful as he got about the loss of his employee and, he had to admit, his friend. He took one glance around the room and knew that it was the woman who had shot him. However, his curiosity was piqued now. He knew that Sherlock had called an ambulance for her but now he didn't understand why and Jim Moriarty was the kind of man who wanted to know everything.

He called one of his more useful contacts who told him that Sherlock Holmes had checked in a Miss Erika Butler into a nearby hospital. Jim let and smile creep cross his face. He still remembered very vividly the strength of the young woman. Even when he kidnapped her he knew she was dying, with a year or two left. This was probably her end. It was clear that Sherlock had formed some sort of relationship with the girl else he wouldn't bother assisting her.

He made his way to the hospital lazily, feeling no need to rush. When he did arrive he waited in the corridor for a moment before a doctor walked out of her room. He waited for him to walk past before pinching the back of his neck, rendering him unconscious. As soon as he was out he pulled him it a storeroom nearby. He swapped their clothes and covered the man's face with a chloroform soaked rag, knowing he wouldn't wake up anytime soon, if ever.

He stood and winked at the man, mouthing _call me_ before sniggering and walking out of the room. He then proceeded to walk up and down the corridor, constantly looking into her room. Patiently, Jim waited for the moment she flat-lined, which was a day later.

As soon as he saw a number of nurses and doctor run into the room he followed behind, keeping his face hidden from Sherlock. When the doctor declared her dead, Moriarty sent the text he had been waiting to send for the past two days. When he looked back up he saw Sherlock place a ring on her finger and leave. Without really thinking about it he pulled the ring off her finger and put it into her pocket.

"I'll take care of the body," he said to the others and they all left except one. Moriarty smiled to him and he closed all the blinds around her room. Jim pulled a syringe from his pocket and, in an almost bored fashion, stabbed her in the chest with it. A few seconds later, Erika let out a gasp, her eyes shooting open. He grinned and covered her face with another chloroform rag. She was unconscious before she could really wake up and, keeping an eye on her pulse, he threw the sheet up over her head in an overly dramatic fashion, as if he were a magician performing a trick. Then he and the nurse wheeled her down the corridor and out of the building, into a waiting ambulance.

Jim smiled and took the rag off her face, aware that she still wouldn't wake up for a long time. As they drove Moriarty let out a laugh and pulled the ring out of his pocket, holding it up to the light. It really was a pretty little thing, much like the woman who now lay unconscious in the stretcher beside him. He resolved that he would do his best to ensure that Sherlock Holmes and Erika Butler both suffered for what they did to his friend, and he knew exactly how.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Erika woke up in a bed that was far more comfortable than she felt it should have been. Instinctively she snuggled under the covers, assuming that she was back at Thornton Place before realising what should have happened. She sat up suddenly before lying back down after an excruciating pain shot through her head. Carefully she felt the back of her head, feeling the bandages and padding there. Unsure of where she was, she looked around and immediately recognised the room. Horror shot through her and she heard the door creak open, revealing the man she least wanted to see in the world.

"Good morning, Miss Butler." The Irish accent and sing-song tone did nothing to calm her nerves, but she held fast, hoping her strength wouldn't fail her now of all times.

"Is this hell?" Moriarty laughed and smiled at her.

"No, you're alive."

"And you're not meant to be."

"Sherlock can fake his death, so can I; with ease in fact."

"I'm sure. What have you done to me?"

"I've saved your life, my dear," he said, standing at the foot of the bed. "I found a scientist working on fighting cancer and he needed some human test subjects. Since you were unconscious, I volunteered you. I figured it didn't matter if you lived or died. In fact, his drug worked. Injected straight into the tumour it killed all the cancer cells within it, leaving the healthy ones undamaged. You're cancer free."

"Why don't I feel as grateful as I should?"

The consultant criminal laughed at her. He came around so he was standing beside her. "You owe me your life, and that is exactly what you are going to give."

"I don't understand."

"Sherlock Holmes wants you alive. I want him dead. There is the most beautiful overlap."

"I'd sooner die."

"Ah, you see," Jim said, pulling a syringe out of his pocket. "That is the alternative. Either you help me, or you receive a lethal dose of Notechis scutatus venom. The choice is yours."

Erika didn't think before grabbing the needle from him and holding it to her arm. Moriarty smiled. "Clever girl. You're right, kill yourself and I can't use you to hurt him."

"I'm not kidding, I'll do it!" She pushed the needle into her skin so it was lined up on the vein. She hadn't pushed the plunger but he knew she wouldn't do it, and now he was going to make certain of that fact.

"Very well, kill yourself. Throw away all the years you just got back."

Erika's hand was shaking but her voice remained strong. "Everyone already believes me dead, what does it matter to me?"

Moriarty let a grin cross his face. "Your right, no difference at all. All of those years are utterly meaningless. I'm sure Sherlock would agree."

"S-Sherlock," she said, her voice wavering. Blood trickled down her inner arm from where the needle had slipped, cutting her. She fought back the tears in her eyes and tried to remain strong. "He already thinks I'm dead."

Moriarty remained silent, knowing that his battle was already won. He walked lazily over to the window and stared out, waiting. Not a moment later, they both heard the syringe drop to the floor. He turned and saw Erika curled up, with her knees to her chest, quietly crying. He smirked and walked back so he was beside the bed, facing her.

"Welcome to the company, Miss Butler." And with that, he was gone, whistling to himself. Erika remained there, crying for a long time. Her hands were pressed to her stomach and he body was racked with sobs. She hated herself for what she'd let happen to her and what she had done to Sherlock, but she felt helpless and alone.

It was 7 o'clock when Moriarty's voice crackled out over the loudspeaker above her bed. "Paging Miss Erika Butler to the white courtesy phone."

The fake American accent in his voice sent shivers down Erika's spine. The voice reminded her vaguely of her father and she let out another cry. She was prepared to ignore him, willing to remain in that bed for the rest of her life, when she realised that if she spent her whole life depressed, Moriarty would win. She took a deep breath in and put on the façade she had adopted since she was fifteen years old.

Ignoring the pain in her head, she stood up, the hospital robe slackening around her and, sighing, she let it fall to the ground. She knew there would be cameras watching her but she gave the impression that she didn't care about her exposure. She walked to the wardrobe and opened it to find a single outfit hanging there. She pulled it out and gasped, looking at the dress he had provided for her.

It looked almost militant with a collar that fastened around her neck and the dark black would make her look pale as a ghost. It was also short, coming to just above her knees. He had also provided her with some heels that fit her perfectly. She let one tear roll down her cheek before toughening up and doing as he was silently asking.

She dressed; buttoning the dress up to the collar so as to hide her scars and the padding behind her neck, and went to the bathroom to apply some make-up. She knew he was going to mess with her, but if he did so, she wasn't going to sit back and take it. Erika Butler was a fighter and she had a twofold plan. One, escape from Moriarty's clutches. Two, go back to Sherlock.

With a smile on her face, she pulled open the double doors of her room and walked out; displaying that she was confident and free, ready to take on the man who took everything she had ever had from her. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Erika was a vicious opponent.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When Erika arrived for dinner, Moriarty merely glanced up from his plate. He motioned with his head for her to sit down at the opposite end of the table where a meal was already laid out for her. She eyed in tentatively but made no effort to eat it. Jim smiled at this.

"Why would I want poison you?"

"Why wouldn't you?" The question hung in the air for a moment before Moriarty chuckled lightly.

"Because you're of no use to me dead."

He continued eating and, after a careful inspection, Erika did the same. She hated to admit that the food was good, so she buried it behind a supreme indifference to the world around her. They finished their meals in silence and remained in their seats for a moment before he stood and walked around to her, standing beside her. He held out an arm and, thinking quickly, Erika took it and stood up. He then led her into a lavish living room. He motioned for her to sit down on the sofa and she did so, him sitting opposite.

"You're certainly the most unorthodox of kidnappers, aren't you James?"

She smiled as Moriarty inadvertently twitched at the use of his Christian name. He quickly composed himself and answered her. "I have no reason to harm you, Miss Butler as long as you do whatever I ask. I'm only doing this to hurt him."

She knew who they were talking and knew he was aware she shared this knowledge. Erika wanted to know as much as possible, as was her way, so she prompted her captor. "And how does all of this hurt Sherlock?"

"Ah, you see," he said leaning forward in his chair. "Sherlock is a broken man; I've made sure of that. But when he knows that you're alive, he'll do anything to get you back. However, he'll be broken beyond repair when he finds that you don't want to go."

Erika was taken aback by this. There were so many details in his statement that she desperately wanted to clarify. What had he done to completely destroy Sherlock? How did he know all of this? However, these and other questions would have to wait as she prioritised.

"And how do you plan to make me want to remain here? Cure my cancer only to threaten my life?"

"No, it's far simpler than that," he said leaning further forward again. "You will want to stay here because I can give you the one thing he can't."

"And what would that be?"

"A future, my dear." At this he stood up, walking around the room clearly excited. "You are a brilliant thief. Together we could have everything. Money, notoriety, and above all, you could have a career you enjoy. No-one would pass that up for any one man."

"I would."

His eyes narrowed at this and he sat on the sofa next to her, a little closer than she would have liked. He leant in close to her so his mouth gently brushed against her cheekbones as he whispered, "You forget that I don't like the word no. You also forget that you have no choice. Like it or not, you will play this part, and I will burn him."

He pulled back and looked her in the eye. Erika could see the coldness and determination in them that wasn't dissimilar to Sherlock's. However there was something else, a cruel, harshness that flared in moments of rage like the sun reaching out an arm to burn the earth's crust. And there was that word again. Burn.

Despite her fear and hatred for the man sitting opposite her, she decided that if she was to be trapped here, she would at least make it worth her while. She would enjoy herself by doing all she could to pick James Moriarty to pieces, and fortunately it was something she did awfully well. Changing the subject quickly, not answering his previous demands, she spoke up.

"So James, do you make all your guests dress like this?" she said, motioning at herself. He smirked.

"Just the ones I know will make it worth my while."

"And did Miss Adler?"

Moriarty's eyes snapped back to hers from where they had drifted down her curves through the material, teasingly. His gaze was cold, yet somehow, disbelieving. He knew he had already betrayed part of his secret but was interested in what she knew.

"And how did you get to these conclusions?"

"Beyond the look on your face just now," She said with a smirk, "I recognise her touches. You wouldn't buy this dress, despite your clear taste; it's more of feminine choice than you're capable of. There is also the military cut that seems to suggest some sort of domination, seconded of course by these 5 inch heels. Then there's the designer, Alexander McQueen, whose fashion is stunning and expensive. Then there was the make-up left in the bathroom; lipstick shades can be very specific. Now combine all of these and you come to the dominatrix, Miss Irene Adler."

Moriarty smiled. "You're smarter than I originally thought. That's a new feeling. We might be able to have fun before Sherlock tries to whisk you away."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?"

"No," he stated simply. He pulled a cigarette pack and a lighter out of his breast pocket. He handed her a cigarette and she took it, smiling at him without it reaching her eyes. She put it between her lips and he lit it for her. She took a long drag and blew the smoke in his face. To her surprise he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if to savour the moment. When his eyes opened there was a smile there.

"Addictions, intelligence and quite attractive. Perhaps you're not as ordinary as I originally thought."

"And how ordinary did you think I was?" Erika said, taking another long drag of her cigarette.

"As ordinary as him," Jim said plainly. "As ordinary as everyone else."

Erika smiled widely and put the cigarette out in an ashtray beside her. "Well, that says a great deal about you."

Then she stood, making to leave the room when she found herself blocked by Moriarty.

"What does it say?" he said with a raised eyebrow. Erika leant in close so she was whispering in his ear.

"That you're the most ordinary of all."

Before she could comprehend what was happening, she felt a harsh slap across her face followed by a tight grip around her throat. She gasped for air as she was pushed against a wall by the furious man strangling her.

"You be careful what you say, my dear," Jim hissed at her. "Words can hurt."

She tried to respond but the grip around her neck was too much. She moved her hands so that they were gripping at his arm, trying to pry him off with no success. Then she felt the ground fall below her so she had to stand on her toes to reach it. She gasped for air but got none.

"Now, tell me," Moriarty said, sounding bored. "Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you now?"

The slight loosening of his grip informed her that the question wasn't rhetorical so he gasped the little air she could before whispering. "You need us."

The hand around her throat disappeared and she fell to the floor, choking and gasping for air. Moriarty crouched down so he was at her level. Erika looked at him, trying to glare but only managed feebly. Jims face remained impassive as he said, "What did you mean, 'us'?"

Erika's eye widened in horror as she realised what she had said in her panicked state. Quickly she thought of an excuse.

"Sherlock and I." Her voice was croaky and cracked and she hated it. Moriarty shook his head sadly and smiled cruelly at her, leaning in closer.

"No, my dear. You said, 'you need us.' Who is 'us'?"

Erika stayed silent but inadvertently put a hand to her stomach. Jim noticed and a grin spread across his face. "I suppose I'll need a new nickname for him. 'The Virgin' doesn't suit anymore."

Erika let a tear roll down her cheek before he pulled her up, sitting her back down on the sofa. He sat across again and stared at her as she sobbed silently. They were quiet for a while before Moriarty said, "And how far along are you?"

Feeling it would be better for herself if she answered, Erika swallowed her tears and answered, "Thirteen weeks."

"And the foetuses' sex?" Hating the clinical tone of his voice, Erika bit her tongue, refusing to answer. It was then she felt a knife at her stomach.

"I can kill it without killing you," he said. She let a tear slide down her face and he said in a singing way, "I know you know it."

She said nothing until she felt the knife pierce the dress. It was then she whispered, "A boy."

Moriarty stood back and smiled. Then he grabbed her arm and hoisted her up by it. She let out a small gasp of pain before standing. "Get out."

She felt no need to argue and hurriedly walked to her room. On reaching it she found that all of her clothes had been brought over from Thornton Place but there were many more expensive pieces of clothing hanging in the wardrobe beside them. He had provided her with new clothes, shoes, make-up, books and anything else she might have wanted to make her comfortable. She also found a laptop sitting in the desk at the far end of the room. She ran to it and opened John's blog. There she read the entry about Sherlock's return without any mention of her. She was glad in a way. It meant that John cared about him, and Sherlock would be safe.

She logged off, creating a password first, and shut the computer down. Her head was starting to ache again which was to be expected. She changed out of the dress and into a silk nightdress that was laying on the bed for her. She crawled back into bed and cried, wishing desperately that she was back in Thornton Place with Sherlock sleeping beside her. She let all the pain flow away with her salty tears as she waited for the morning where she would have to put on her façade once more and be brave.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

One month had passed since Sherlock's untimely return to 221B Baker Street and yet he looked no better. John and Mrs Hudson were careful not to leave him alone to long in case his brilliant mind decided that stupidity was the fastest path away from his grief. She had already caught him with a gun to him head once and, despite the fact there were no bullets in the weapon, they were even more careful around him.

Occasionally, Mycroft would come around, aware of his little brother's return, to try and help but both John and Sherlock refused to tell him the whole truth. Mycroft eventually stopped coming around as it accomplished nothing. Instead he and John had an agreement to tell no-one else of Sherlock's return until he was ready to face the world again.

Sherlock spent every day doing the same thing. He didn't get out of bed until the middle of the day. He barely ate, rarely slept, despite his hours confined in bed, and never move. He could spend the day in one position and never seem to shift after that. It was playing havoc on John's nerves as he wondered about his friend's health. It's was on the day he was completely fed up that everything turned around.

Sherlock didn't get up until about midday, which wasn't unusual for him now. He sat himself down on the chair and proceeded to sit like a marble statue, staring at the wall. It was about fifteen minutes after this that Sherlock's phone, collected off the rooftop at Bart's, indicated that he had a text. Normally he would have ignored it but his boredom was taking over him, so he did so. However, nothing could have prepared him for what it contained.

_Want to play? JM_

Sherlock read the text a dozen time to make sure it said what he thought before the true horror sunk in. Moriarty was alive, it was all for nothing. Everything he did, they did, was for nothing. His face fell and John picked up on it immediately. He came up behind Sherlock and looked down at the phone. He let a curse pass his lips, which he knew immediately was a mistake.

Sherlock turned on him, facing him with his eyes burning. "You know something. There's more. What is it?"

"What?" John said doing his best to look impassive but he couldn't fool to man.

"What do you know?" Each word was punctuate by a step closer to John who had previously backed away so that by the end of the question, Sherlock was towering over the army doctor. John pursed his lips for a second before deciding to give in.

"Wait here." And with that he ran upstairs into his bedroom. He went to the drawer and pulled out the box that was delivered a few weeks ago. He walked down the stairs hesitantly, holding the box as though it was made of glass. Perhaps it was, easily able to shatter Sherlock.

When he got back to the living room, he found Sherlock passing anxiously. He heard John come in and pounced on him, taking to box from his hands. He opened it hastily, before John could say anything and looked inside. On seeing its contents he dropped it and raised his hand to his mouth. John watched his friends back as short sobs racked him and was about to do something when they stopped as suddenly as they started.

Sherlock's hand dropped back to his side and his shoulders relaxed. He turned slowly back around to face John but now his eyes burnt with anger. "You hid this from me."

"Sherlock-" John started.

"YOU HID THIS FROM ME!" He yelled, grabbing the front of the shorter man's shirt. John decided against fighting the clearly distraught man and waited for his to say anything. Soon, he did. "Why?"

"You were broken Sherlock," he said, prying the man's long fingers off his shirt. "Completely broken. It arrived after her funeral. I wasn't going to do that to you."

Sherlock took a step back and breathed in deeply. He turned back to the ring, now lying desolate on the floor. He picked it up slowly and slipped it onto his finger. It felt different now, hollow and cold.

"I left this on her finger when she died. She was so pale…" his voice trailed off from a whisper to nothing and he let out a sigh. John watched him sadly, knowing that Sherlock was going through hell and there was nothing that could help him, perhaps not even time. Sherlock let out a long sigh before a thought struck him and he turned back to John.

"How did you know it was Moriarty?" he said, taking a step back to his friend. John sighed.

"There was a message left on the answering machine. It was him."

"What did he say? How did he say it? Exactly how?"

John took a deep breath before he began reciting. "I told you I'd burn the heart out of you. Ready to play?"

Sherlock inhaled sharply and sat down in his chair, his knees pulled to his chest with his fingers resting on top of them in a prayer position.

"Sherlock?" John asked tentatively.

"He was there John. He was there."

That was all John could get out of the man before he silenced, not speaking another word and closing his eyes. Worried, John sat across from him, desperate to watch over his friend until he came back to reality.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It had been two months since she had been locked away and Erika spent a lot of her time reading. Moriarty's home had an extensive library containing hundreds of books in hundreds of languages and she had resigned to read as many as possible if she was to be trapped here. She was starting to show signs of pregnancy as she was now at 21 weeks. There was a slight bulge in her stomach which she hid as best she could with more flowing and loose-fitting clothes.

Sitting in the library, she was reading a book of Greek Mythology. She smiled slightly, remembering her mother reading them to her when she was a little girl before she went to bed and how her dreams were filled with start and chariots, gods and goddess who protected her as she slept. That was a memory she would always cherish. It was while she was sitting there reading that Moriarty entered.

He stood in the doorway for a brief moment before entering. He hadn't grown attached to his prisoner but he did admire her in his twisted way. He watched her silently for a moment before returning to his original purpose. Walking along the outside of the room, he ran his hand along the spines of the books, reading the titles hurriedly as he did so. Eventually he came across the book he was after.

Bending down he pulled a book down from above his head which was clearly a scientific journal. He then knelt down and pulled the last of a group of large, black notebooks off the shelf. He then took them both to a desk which sat near a wall with a window behind it, so the person working there could have some light. Erika looked up from her book and watched him, curious as to what he was doing. To her great surprise, he opened the journal and the notebook and began to copy out the scientific text.

Erika smiled cheekily. She placed a bookmark between the pages of her text and put it down beside her. Then she stood, walking over to him as naturally as she could with a hand pressed to her stomach. She was about a metre away from the desk and the consultant criminal didn't seem to notice her presence; until she spoke that is.

"Studying for exam week?" she said teasingly. He looked up blankly before grinning like the Cheshire cat; she supressed the chill that ran down her spine when she saw it and tried to act normally. She smiled slightly in response.

"Everyone has their hobbies. This is mine." He then returned to his work and Erika looked down at what he was doing, surprised by what she saw. The scientific journal had an article detailing Ramsey's Theorem with a long list of complex mathematical equations with almost no numbers at all. She couldn't understand any of it but was aware immediately that Jim Moriarty did.

Looking down at the man's notebook, she saw a long list of equations, variables, inequations, formulas and numbers that filled the pages. She stood stunned by the work put in and had no doubt that, based on James' intellect, every line was correct. Moriarty looked up at her again and smirked. He stood up and went to the bookshelves again. A moment later he returned with a bound, leather book. He motioned for her to sit at the chair across from him and she did so. He then sat and handed her to book. Resting his chin on his hands, he watched her.

Unsure what he gave her, Erika looked down at the book in her hands: _'Nontrivial Zeros and the Riemann Hypothesis – Professor James Moriarty'._ Surprised, she opened to book, finding it mixed between text and formulas, some continuing for pages that were demonstrating the hypothesis above. Amazed, she looked up, only to find her captor staring down at the book as well.

"A mathematical genius turned consultant criminal," Erika murmured.

"We all must start somewhere," Jim said, leaning back in his chair. "And I know where you began, Miss Butler."

"I have my doubts," she said, looking back down at the book resting on the desk in front of her in the hope it would silence him, but Moriarty never backed down from a challenge. He leant forward again grinned widely, licking his teeth before he began.

"You were a genius. Yes, I said 'were'. Brilliant at school in every topic until you were fifteen when you dropped out."

"It's not important how I-"

"Eleven years, 2 months ago your parent were killed in a train crash in Tanzania, a week after which you disappeared. No one saw you again until you were seventeen when you were found in Sussex with a needle in your arm. After that well, 'The end'."

Erika let a tear slid down her cheek as she glared at the man across from her. "You're a real bastard."

Jim smiled. "You're lucky I need you both, or you'd be pinned to the wall with a knife through your chest."

The cold pleasantness which he said those words with chilled her to the bone. She looked away before realising what he said. "What do you mean 'need us both'?"

He let out a short laugh. "You thought I didn't need the both of you? If I didn't need your son he'd be dead."

"You will not touch him," she said, standing up suddenly and pressing her hands to her stomach protectively. "I swear to God I will KILL you if you so much as touch him!"

Moriarty let out a bored sigh and let his head roll back. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and rubbed them. "Why are you so ordinary?"

Before Erika could contradict him he stood and crossed the room so he was standing about a ruler's length away from her. He grinned down at her before kneeling in front of her and, before she could protest, he pressed an ear to her stomach.

"He says he doesn't want you; says you and Sherlock are going to abandon him." His babyish voice brought tears to her eyes but she didn't have the strength to stop him.

"Oh, he says he wants me." At this Erika pushed him away with all the strength she had and Moriarty fell back onto the floor.

"Better," he said, smirking at her.

"You will not take him. I'll die before I let you take him."

"That can be arranged." The coldness in his voice as he stretched himself back up frightened her and she took a step back, her hands still clamped to her stomach. He stood and brushed off his suit before turning back to her, his face business-like.

"Here's the thing, my dear. You mistake maternity with power. You will have your son, and you will give him to me, willingly or otherwise. Then he will be raised here so that I could have someone with half a brain to take over."

Y-you," she said, hesitantly. "You want…an heir?"

"Not particularly but you've given me such a perfect opportunity, I'd be a fool to pass it up." He said, winking at her. "Also, what could possibly hurt more, than me having control over his lover and child?"

He pressed a hand to her stomach in a cold way and she pulled away. "You won't take William."

"William? Is that his name? William Holmes. How dull. William Moriarty? Far better." Before she could threaten him again, he sauntered out of the room with a spring in his step and she sunk back into a chair, knowing that she couldn't be beaten.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Time seemed to stop and start in that house in Cambridge. Sometimes the days and weeks flew into each other and she barely seemed to touch the ground, but other times it dragged, minutes seemed like hours as Erika sat, waiting for the day to end. It was because of this that Erika was surprised to wake up one morning and find Jim Moriarty sitting in the chair by her bedroom window.

Ignoring the ache in her back, she sat up, looking at the man. He looked as immaculate as ever but something in his demeanour told her he wasn't there for a reason that would be good for her. She was about to lie back down and pretend to sleep when his voice cut through the crisp, early morning air.

"Boring, isn't it?" He turned to face her now completely. There was no hint of a smile on his face and he looked cold and distant. This concerned Erika. Although a psychopath, the criminal was usually smiling, albeit cruelly, but smiling none the less. Its absence frightened her. "Staying alive."

"For some," she answered, slowly. It was then a wave of nausea crept up on her and she got up, walking hastily to the bathroom before retching.

She stayed there for a while, sick and tired, before getting up, brushing her teeth and returning to her bed. Moriarty hadn't moved and he continued the conversation as if there hadn't been a pause. "For all."

"If that's what you think, James," she said, trying to end the conversation or bring it to its point. Moriarty raised an eyebrow at her and stood, approaching the bed slowly until he was standing beside her.

"Why do you call me that?"

"It's your name."

"No," he said, shaking his head slightly. "It's my Christian name. Why don't you ever say my name?"

"Formalities bore me," she said with a blank look. Jim shook his head again and sat on the bed beside her.

"No, no, no Miss Butler. They don't." He moved in closer to her, and Erika tried to back away, finding herself cornered. He leant in to her so he was inches away from her. "Say my name."

She let out a short, hollow laugh. "No."

He leant forward and bit her neck, hard, drawing blood and she let out a loud scream. He came back to face her and his lips were red with her blood. "Say my name."

"N-no," she said, losing her will. Again Moriarty leant forward but this time he bit her just below her ear and she let out a scream so loud and haunting that she was surprised the police didn't call. He didn't let got and yelled into her skin, "My name!"

"MORIARTY!" she shrieked. His name tainted her tongue and her Russian accent slipped through. He leant back and smirked at her.

"Say that again."

"Moriarty." This time her voice was barely above a whisper but her accent was still clear. He grinned at her, his teeth still slightly stained with blood, and winked slightly.

"You tried so hard to fit in, to hide your accent, and you succeeded. Except," he said leaning forward so he was whispering in her ear. "When you come across a word you haven't carefully rehearsed. My name, for instance."

Jim leant back and she glared at him pointedly. This only made his smile wider. "Don't look at me like that dear, it's not very polite."

"You think I give a damn if I'm polite to you?"

"You should." The harshness of his tone made her recoil for a moment before she regained her composure.

"You don't scare me, James Moriarty."

"Do you need another reminder of what I can do?" He brushed his finger along her shirt where directly below it, the initials _JM_ glistened white against her flesh.

"You may be dangerous, but I don't fear you."

"Then you're a fool." He shook his head sadly. "And a fool's child is worthless."

"He's not worthless."

"No, he's not. But you are." To say those words cut deep would be understating the effect they had on her. She took a deep breath in to stop her emotions showing and forced back her anger.

"If I'm worthless, he is also."

"No, no, my dear," he hissed, leaning forward and pressing a hand to her stomach, now fully stretched. "You forget he's got Sherlock in him."

"But you said Sherlock was ordinary, and me as well," she said, sitting up in bed. "That means William is ordinary, and you loath ordinary don't you."

"Perhaps," was his only response.

"If that's true, let us go."

Jim let out a long laugh, throwing his head back. "No, no, no, I can't do that. You and him both need to pay me your debts and William is the perfect tax. You will stay, and you will watch him grow to hate you. Hate both of you."

"Never."

"No choice, sweetheart," he said with a wink. "You don't make the rules, I do."

And with that he stood to leave, looking back at her with a smirk. She made to hiss at him another cold remark when an excruciating pain shot through her and she let out a cry. Returning back into the room, Moriarty watched her for a moment blankly before a smile spread across his face.

"Well, well," he said cheerily. "Looks like it's tax time."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Erika smiled weakly at the infant lying in the basket in front of her. He was sleeping quietly with his hands under his head. She gently patted the soft, dark curls on his head, glad that they had been passed on. She leant down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and he woke up, his eyes opening to reveal irises green as emeralds.

The boy let out a gentle yawn and the young woman laughed. Her son looked up at her and raised a hand to grab her finger. He held onto it with a grip she was sure was stronger than the norm, but he was the son of a strong man, in every sense of the word.

"I'm so sorry William," she whispered to the baby. "You could have so much. You could have a genius father and a dying mother, but instead you get a madman."

She let a tear fall down her cheek. "You could have grown up with people who love you, not people who need you. You could have been a detective or an artist or a scientist. You could have been anything you wanted and it wouldn't have mattered. But he will make you a criminal."

She let out a sigh. "He will make you too much like me."

William looked up at his mother crying and just lay there watching. He didn't stir or whimper, he just watched. Finally, Erika stopped weeping and looked out the window, sadly. "You'll never be allowed to go. We never will."

But then she stopped and looked down at her boy. "Unless we run."

And with that she picked up the boy who let out a coo in protest. She smiled and walked to the window, opening it wide as it would go. She then carefully folded the pair out of it and into the sun. As soon as she got out she ran to the property gates, knowing they were just beyond the hedges but when she arrived she was met with a sorrier sight.

Moriarty stood leaning against the gates with a gun in his hand, aimed lazily at her. He smiled and walked closer to Erika who had frozen in place. "You know, it's not polite to turn down someone's hospitality, my dear."

He took William from her arms with less care than Erika would have liked and smirked at the woman. He looked down at the boy and said in his childish, sing-song voice, "Say goodbye to Mummy."

Then everything went black.

Erika woke up bound to a chair; the same chair, she realised in horror. However this time she wasn't stripped, instead she was clothed in a hospital gown, green and white, and she was in a cellar. _The cellar of the house_ she thought. She could feel the blood matted in her hair from where he'd hit her with the butt of a gun, and a throbbing pain was shooting down her neck.

Across from her, Moriarty sat on what looked like a bar stool. One of his legs was hanging loosely but the other had its foot resting on bar holding the legs apart. He had his left elbow on his knee with his head in his hand. The other hand hung loosely beside him where a knife was grasped between his fingers. Erika recoiled.

"I really thought we could have made this work," he said, his voice laced with mock disappointment. He dropped his hand and looked at her coldly. He smiled a little and jumped up, walking closer to her, the knife still in his hands.

"You really thought I wouldn't notice him gone? Both of you gone?" He leant forward and she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. "Did you think you could get away?"

Erika remained silent, looking away from him. His eyes blazed with anger and he slapped her. "ANSWER ME WOMAN!"

"You can't be everywhere," she whispered. He smirked and walked around, so he was standing behind her. He leant forward so his chin was on her neck. She winced as he applied pressure to the bite-marks still painfully fresh on her skin.

"He's a week old and you think I wouldn't notice?" He leant in closer so his lips brushed her ear when he talked. "You were going to steal him away weren't you? Take him back to Sherlock? Create your happy little family?"

"He doesn't deserve this..." she said, tears in her eyes as she thought of her son lying in the room above her; helpless and alone. "Nobody does."

"You do." His words hissed into her ear made her shudder and recoil. The consultant criminal walked around her again so he was facing her. He leant in painfully closer to her and she tried to back away. He looked at her for a long while, examining before he backed away, grinning.

"Why don't we do something for Sherlock then?" he said gleefully. "Dr Watson has an old war wound in his left shoulder." He leant in and pulled the knife up. "Why don't we give him a matching set?"

Before she could speak, Erika felt the blade pierce her shoulder and she let out a scream so loud and high that she was amazed it came from her. She felt as though her arm was burning and freezing at once as the blade twisted in her flesh. She yelled and screamed and tried to get away from the weapon but he would have nothing of it.

Moriarty's eyes glistened joyfully when he saw the blood painting her gown crimson. He twisted the knife and dug deeper, listening to his victim shriek. He laughed as she writhed and shuddered, enjoying the agony in her eyes. Finally he pulled the knife out and watched Erika fall into unconsciousness. He smirked and dropped the knife beside her, before undoing her bonds and throwing her over his shoulder, careful not to get blood on his suit.

He took her back upstairs but made no effort to take her to her bedroom. Instead he dropped her unceremoniously in the tiled hall. He then made for Williams room. Opening the door slightly he looked in to find the child lying, asleep, in the basket he had turned into a make-shift crib. He walked up to the boy slowly, never being all that fond of children. It was then he noticed an abnormality.

The boy's skin was pale; far too pale to be healthy, even for Sherlock's son. Carefully he walked closer, looking for any cause and finding none. It was then the cause hit him and he looked away and out the window. _Shame_, he thought. _He could have been useful_.

Leaving the room he found Erika still lying on the floor. Bored, and wanting her to wake up, he pressed his foot to her wound. He eyes opened as she gasped in the pain. He removed his foot and she lay there, looking at him. "You have saved me time, deary."

She looked at him blankly through her pain and he continued. "Your genetics mean that your son will be dead within the hour. Congratulations."

"N-no. William," she whispered, breaking into sobs. Jim let out a bored sigh before starting to walk away when he felt a hand grab his ankle. He turned to see the woman looking at him pleadingly. "Let me see him."

"No." And with that he walked back into William's room, content to wait until the boy breathed his final breath which he knew wouldn't be all that long.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It had been weeks since Sherlock had last spoken and it was worrying John. He did have a habit of being silent for extended periods but even for him this was a long time. Hardly a word had passed his lips since John had given him the ring and the residents of 221 Baker Street were growing more and more concerned.

Often John would come home and find Sherlock sitting in the same place, his knees pulled to his chest and his hands on top of them with his mouth moving quickly and his eyes clamped shut. Despite his silent murmuring, no words were spoken. After five weeks of silence, John snapped.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, SHERLOCK!" he shouted. "I know you're hurting, I know you're concerned and angry and perhaps even frightened but that's no reason to shut off."

There was no response. John sighed and sat across from his friend, letting out a sigh.

"Sherlock, they're gone. You can't bring them back, no one can. You're worrying me and Mrs Hudson so please, for us and you, come back to reality."

"But I don't like it there." His voice was a mere whisper, childish and quiet. It made John want to smile and cry at once. He settled for sighing and walking around to where his best friend sat. He put his arms around his shoulders and lifted him up. Together they struggled to Sherlock's bedroom and John helped him lie down.

"Just sleep, Sherlock."

"Will sleep bring them back?"

"No," he answered sadly. "But it'll help bring you back."

And then he left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Sherlock remained still for a while, unable to find the energy to move. He had spent the last month trying to work out where his and Moriarty's paths intersected and he could only put it down to Moran. He must have contacted the consultant criminal and Jim followed him, then them to the hospital. But why would he take her ring? Sherlock could only put it down to opportunity, he saw his chance and took it, willing to use it against his nemesis.

He had been lying there in silence for so long that the light had disappeared completely from the room. He deduced it was about one in the morning and there was a vicious storm wailing outside his window. Light seared the sky and crashes could be heard from the heavens. It was because of all this he was surprised to hear a loud banging at the front door. Annoyed, he pulled his pillow over his head but the banging continued. Finally he decided to end it himself.

Wrapping his dressing gown around him he walked down the stairs to the front door. As he opened it he was yelling at the person on the other side. Nothing could have prepared him for what really was there. He opened the door to reveal a woman wearing a blood-stained hospital gown and clutching something to her breast. He was about to send her on her way when she looked up at him through soaked hair. He recognised her at once.

"Erika!"

Before he could say anything more, the woman collapsed on the floor, shivering and shuddering but still holding onto the bundle in her hands. Sherlock knelt down beside her and yelled up the stairs. "JOHN! GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

On hearing his flatmate running about upstairs, Sherlock turned his attention back to the woman. "Erika, what happened to you?"

She looked up at him and she was sobbing. "I c-couldn't leave him there. I couldn't. I had n-nowhere else to go. P-please," she said through tear stained eyes, "Help me."

It was at this moment John appeared. He took one look at Erika and gasped, "Jesus."

He tried to sit Erika up but when he touched her shoulder she let out a blood-curling scream, collapsing back onto the floor. John looked down at his hand and saw it was crimson with blood. He looked back up at Sherlock and, on seeing the horror in his face, tried again, this time talking to her. "Erika, please, can you sit up?"

She struggled but did so, not letting go of the bundle in her arms which John noticed. He indicated that Sherlock should help hold her up and he did so as John took the bundle off her, gasping at what it was.

In his arms, wrapped in a leather jacket, was a boy, no more than a week old. He had dark hair that curled around his face and he was pale; far to pale. Taking the boy's pulse and temperature, he was met with the confronting fact that the infant was dead. He looked up at Sherlock who had clearly come to the same conclusion. His eyes were laced with tears which were rejected when they both heard Erika shriek again, pressing her hand to her shoulder.

"Sherlock, we need to get her upstairs." Sherlock nodded and picked her up, cradling her to his chest, and carried her quickly up the stairs to his bedroom. John followed, laying the infant down on a pile of sheets in the corner before turning his attention to the patient he might still be able to save. He ran to the bathroom, grabbing his medical kit, and set to work on her shoulder. Sherlock watched nervously but John was worried about him, so he set him a task.

"Phone Molly." Sherlock looked up and saw John purpose in his eyes immediately. He nodded sadly, picked up William and left the room. John looked down at Erika who had lost consciousness again, desperate to save the life of the woman, for both their sakes.

Outside, Sherlock had pulled his mobile out of his coat pocket and sent a text to Molly.

_221B Baker Street. Come at once. Emergency. SH_

Barely a moment passed before her received a reply.

_On my way. Molly_

Sherlock then sat for a moment, looking down at the boy in his arms. He had dark, curly hair like his own but it was slightly lighter in colour. His skin was pale and smooth, without blemish. Opening one of his eyes he saw it was the green of emeralds that sparkled in the sunlight and he let a tear slide down his cheek, closing his son's eyes once more. He was perfect, and that was the most hateful part about it. The boy was everything perfect could be but the life had left him.

Despite the thunderous storm, Sherlock still heard the door knock harshly but made no attempt to go to it, knowing Mrs Hudson would have been woken and would do it for him. Sure enough, a minute later he heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs before two women burst into the room.

"Sherlock, what's happened?" Mrs Hudson asked, concerned before spotting the child in his arms. Molly noticed too and swallowed back a tear. Ignoring her question, Sherlock looked up from his son to the younger of the pair.

"Molly, I need you to take this boy to the morgue."

Molly stepped forward slowly but made no attempt to take the body. Sherlock stood up and placed the child in her hands. She looked down at the infant sadly before looking up at Sherlock. She bit her lip before permitting herself the question she not only wanted to know, but needed to know. "For the preliminary paperwork, I need his name."

"William," Sherlock whispered and Mrs Hudson walked to his side, hugging him softly as he continued. "His name in William Sherlock Holmes."

Molly nodded, smiling sympathetically at Sherlock before leaving. Mrs Hudson stayed at his side, looking at him concerned. She lead him to the sofa and sat him down, reasonably aware of what was going on. She hugged him to her softly in a maternal way as they waited for John to come out and tell them everything was going to be okay.

It wasn't until it was almost four in the morning that John re-emerged. Sherlock stood as soon as he saw him, waiting for his verdict. John took a deep breath before starting. "She's going to be fine. She's got several unhealed wounds on different parts of her body. The most severe is a deep stab wound in her shoulder."

"Wait," Sherlock said quickly. "You said 'the most severe'. What else is there?"

John shifted uncomfortable. "She's got deep bite marks in her neck and below her ear. She has a deep cut on her thigh which looks like it was made jumping barbed wire, a cut and bruise on her head from being hit by something hard, she has bruising on her wrists and ankles from restraints, cuts to her feet indicating she walked a long way barefooted and…"

He trailed off but, on seeing Sherlock's face decided it was best he know. "And she has a rope burn around her throat, indicating that she tried to-"

"Hang herself," Sherlock finished. John nodded solemnly. Sherlock fell back into his chair with his face in his hands. Mrs Hudson hugged him softly and looked up at John. John sighed.

"I've given her some sedatives to help her sleep but she'll be awake in a few hours. You can see her if you like."

Sherlock stood quickly and brushed passed the pair, hastily walking to his room. Looking in he saw Erika, now wrapped in bandages and wearing a pair of his pyjamas, lying asleep in his bed. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, softly running his fingers along her hand. She was cold as ice and as pale as the moon but even in this state she was beautiful. He kept his hand on hers in an effort to convince himself that she was real and he wouldn't wake up alone again. The soft beating of her pulse was enough to convince him and he sat there beside her, waiting for her to wake.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

When Erika woke up, every inch of her body ached and she felt like her shoulder was being pricked with a million knives. She hissed in pain and closed her eyes tight. Looking around she saw she was in a different room. The room smelt mustier and it was smaller than her room in Moriarty's home. The bed was also firmer. It was then the night's activities returned to her and her eyes flew open. _William._

She sat bolt upright before the pain sunk in and she fell back in bed with a short yell. It was then she felt a warmth on her hand and she looked to see Sherlock Holmes standing over her. He looked like he hadn't slept and his chin had a day's worth of stubble. He looked down at her with a mixture of concern and sorrow. Finally Erika found her voice. "William?"

Sherlock looked away from her and that was all she needed to confirm what she already knew. She let a sob pass her lips and she cried. Sherlock held her hand as she emptied all her emotions out that she had kept locked up for so long. He watched her silently until her tears stopped because she had wept all the tears she had. She looked up at Sherlock brokenly when there was a soft knock at the door. Both turned to watch John walk in with bandages and other medical equipment.

"Sorry," he said, making to shuffle out but it was Erika who stopped him.

"It's alright Doctor Watson," she said, barely above a whisper. "Do what you have to do."

John looked to Sherlock for approval and received a short nod in return. The taller man stood and pressed himself against the wall while the doctor sat on the edge of the bed. Erika watched them both quietly.

"I'm sorry but I need to know how you got all these wounds and how old they are," John's voice, though sympathetic, was trying to uphold his clinical view. Erika felt obliged to answer.

"Chronologically or Anatomically?" She saw Sherlock smiled a little in the background and managed a weak smile herself before turning back to John for an answer.

"The first."

"The bite marks were about a week ago."

"How did you get them?" John asked, fairly sure of the answer. Erika looked over to Sherlock hesitantly before answering.

"It was Moriarty," she said, her Russian slipping through. "He wanted…information."

John nodded and Erika saw Sherlock clench his fists angrily. She looked back at the doctor who motioned for her to continue and she did so.

"The rest all happened last night."

"What happened last night?" This time it was Sherlock who was speaking. She looked up at him before looking down at her hands. John knew his friend was about to push her for answers but he knew that wouldn't be good for her. He motioned for Sherlock to get out and, unwillingly, he did so. Erika looked up, frantic.

"If he knew what happened…If he knew all of it…it would destroy him."

John sighed and put a hand on hers. "You don't know what he was like when he came back. He was a broken man. He didn't eat, didn't sleep, didn't talk. He just stared at the wall. The only things he ever said were about you or-"

He stopped himself, but the damage was done. Erika's eyes filled with tears which soon spilt over and ran down her cheek. John was unsure what to do so he just sat there. She looked at him and muttered softly, "It's my fault."

"It's not your fault."

"It is!" she said with a voice strained with agony. "You know I had cancer when I got pregnant. Jim snatched me away after I…died. He restarted my heart and destroyed my cancer. But, only my cancer."

John's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."

"You are a medical man. I will speak to you as such. I was dying because the cancer cells in my tumour were seeping into my blood. William," she choked on the name, "William also shared my blood. He got the cancer, not the cure."

John was speechless. He couldn't imagine what she was going to have to live with. Her life saved but her child's lost. She continued, "An adult might have stood a chance but an infant…a baby…"

She trailed off, unable to finish before her tears started again. John patted her good shoulder sympathetically, unsure what else he could do. He was trying to think of something to say when a baritone voice cut through the air.

"It wasn't your fault." Sherlock entered slowly, and walked so that he stood beside her in the bed. Erika looked up at him with tear stained eyes.

"You must hate me."

"No," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I hate him for what he has done to you; before and now."

He brushed his hand over her collarbone where her scars lay. John watched as the two looked at each other before Erika completely fell apart, sobbing into Sherlock. To his surprise, the man who avoided physical contact didn't back away. Instead he cautiously wrapped his arms around her, careful not to hurt her, and hugged her to him. John swore he saw tears on the taller man's face and stood, leaving the two alone for the first time in far too long.

After he left, the pair remained frozen in that position, both too tired to move. Sherlock watched her as she cried, occasionally muttering, "I'm sorry," into his shirt. He simply pulled her closer and waited for the tears to subside and, eventually, they did.

Erika raised her head to look at him and he managed a slight smiled. She returned it weakly but neither could pretend they were happy. She let go of him and lay back down flat. Sherlock looked her up and down again, trying to find all the details he missed but knowing he couldn't without her help. Finally, he spoke.

"Erika please," he said, getting off the bed and kneeling beside it, almost begging. "What happened to you last night?"

She looked up at him and her eyes were moist with tears again. She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "Are you sure you want to know?"

He nodded.

"Forgive me," she whispered, before starting her recount of the horrible night before.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

24 Hours Earlier

Erika regained consciousness on the floor of the hall in excruciating pain. She let out a gasp and saw Moriarty's foot leave the wound on her shoulder. She looked up at him, to exhausted and pained to show any emotion. He looked bored. "You have saved me time, deary."

She looked at him blankly through her pain and he continued. "Your genetics mean that your son will be dead within the hour. Congratulations."

"N-no. William," she whispered, breaking into sobs. Jim let out a bored sigh before starting to walk away when he felt a hand grab his ankle. He turned to see the woman looking at him pleadingly. "Let me see him."

"No." And with that he walked back into William's room, leaving her lying in the hall. She sobbed into the ground for a moment before looking up, staring at the door. Her every joint ached and her stabbed shoulder rendered her left arm useless, but she dragged herself along the floor, leaving a trail of droplets of blood behind her. Using all the strength she had, she pulled herself to the door of William's room. Then, leaning on the door handle, she pulled herself up, hissing in pain as she did so.

Standing hesitantly, she opened the door, knowing he wouldn't lock it, and walked in. Moriarty sat beside the boy, staring into the corner idly. Then he saw her, and his pupils all but disappeared as his eyes narrowed. He smirked a little, surprised at her strength, and stood. Erika stood frozen as he sauntered towards her. Then he put an arm across her shoulder and gripped the wound there. She shrieked and her legs gave way beneath her. He held her up and put a hand over her mouth.

"Shhh," he hissed in her ear, far to close. "You'll wake the baby."

His mocking voice chilled her and he dragged her, by the shoulder, to the chair where he was sitting. He threw her down in it and crouched down in front of her. "You're stronger than I thought, but you're not strong enough to survive this."

"I've had worse paper-cuts," she said with as much strength as she had. He laughed at her, openly and wholly, before turning back to her with a grin on his face.

"Nice try sweetheart but you don't get it." He opened his mouth in a grin and licked his teeth. "Your wounds will heal. But Billy-boy there," he motioned to the child, "will destroy you."

She was about to speak when they both hear a sound that would haunt Erika forever; the sound of her son exhaling all the air in his lungs. It was the end. She let out a scream before breaking into strangled sobs. Moriarty stood and brushed his suit. "Looks like he just did."

He walked out of the room calmly and Erika heard him speak to a man on the other side of the door. "Get rid of them."

She looked up in horror to see a man enter with a rope in his hand. She tried to get up but all her strength failed her. He couldn't fight when he wrapped the noose around her neck, pulling it tight. And then she was choking; hanging with her feet on the ground. For a moment she considered letting him kill her. Then it would be over and she'd be free. But then she thought of Sherlock. Of him sitting alone with two more bodies to bury and she knew she had to fight.

Thinking quickly, she realised he wouldn't be expecting any fighting from her left arm. Therefore, she elbowed the man in the chest with her left arm, screaming in pain. He recoiled and let go of the noose. She pulled it off herself and turned to kick him in the stomach, winding him. Running on pure adrenaline, she grabbed William and jumped from the window. This time she headed for the garden, knowing he wouldn't be expecting her there. She ran as fast as she could, holding William tightly to her breast.

On reaching the garden, she ran to the fence at the back, seeing the top protected with barbed wire. Looking behind her anxiously, she took and deep breathe and climbed, almost making it over unscathed when she heard it. A gunshot that narrowly missed her and she fell over the fence, cutting her thigh. She found herself on the other side of the wire, the safer side, and she bolted; running as far as she could to anywhere.

About an hour after she had been running, the rain and wind started to pick up and she wrapped William in the leather jacket she found by the roadside to keep him warm. It was then that Erika realised that she had nowhere to go. She had no friends, no family alive, no one who would care enough to take her in. Then her thoughts turned to Sherlock. She knew he cared about her but the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him again. She hated the idea of presenting him with more sorrow, a dead son and a broken…lover? No, perhaps too strong. Friend then.

She began to turn her head to other options when pain shot through her shoulder and she fell to the ground, muffling a scream by biting on the edge of the fabric of the leather. It was at that moment she realised she had no choice and she began the long walk to London.

Although she had left in the early morning, it was well past midnight by the time she arrived at Baker Street. Slowly she walked down the road, her feet dragging along the pavement, stinging with every movement. She was soaked to the skin and her hair hung in clumps around her face. She was shivering violently and her teeth chattered incessantly. She looked down at the baby in her arms and hugged him closer to her, hoping her warmth would bring him back to life however his temperature told her it wasn't to be.

Finally, she arrived at the door of 221B. She contemplated spending the night on the step, horrified she might disturb them, but then the pain shot through her again and she clung to the door to stop herself falling. It was then she began pounding on the door. She would have yelled but her voice had lost all its strength in the screaming she had done in pain and despair.

After a minute or so she began to wonder if anyone could hear her knocking over the thunder above her head, and she stopped, looking down at the boy she held and she let a tear slide down her face. It was then she heard the door creak open and a baritone voice start to tell her to go. She looked up and was met with the man she had most wanted to see for such a long time. She could see in his eyes that he recognised her.

"Erika!" She tried to smile but another wave of pain shot through her and she collapsed, unable to hold herself up anymore. She shivered violently, still holding her child to her breast. Sherlock knelt beside her and she heard him yell at his flatmate to come before turning his attention back to her. "Erika, what happened to you?"

She wanted to scream and cry but she found enough strength in her voice and through her strangled sobs to beg him. "I couldn't leave him there. I couldn't. I had nowhere else to go. P-please help me."

Sherlock looked her up and down, concern written all over his features. John appeared and she heard him whisper something, but she wasn't sure what. He crouched down beside her and tried to sit her up, gripping her shoulder to do so. Erika felt like she was being stabbed all over again and she let out a blood-curling scream, unable to stop herself. John stepped back, shocked and Sherlock's eyes widened with fear and pain.

The army doctor looked down at his hand and she knew from his reaction that it was stained with her blood. Sherlock also saw and his face twisted into a mask of horror. John looked back at Erika and spoke as she tried her best to listen. However the only words she heard were, "sit up."

Struggling to support herself and not letting go of her child, she did so. It was now that John's eyes drifted to the jacket. He leant forward and took William from her, she put up a minimal fight. He looked down and gasped. She watched as the two men came to the same conclusion, that her son was dead, and she lay there, hating herself for doing this to them.

But her self-loathing was cut short by the pain. Another stab at her shoulder and she let out another shriek, pressing her arm to the open wound. The men's attention instantly snapped back to her. Erika's vision was starting to blur and voices started to drift as the pain intensified. She knew one of them had said something and was then aware of two strong arms lifting her up. Feeling safe for the first time in almost a year, she let herself fade away into the black.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

By the time she finished recounting the night's events, she was in tears, unable to stop herself anymore. She sobbed into Sherlock's lap and he held her as if she was made of glass, ready to fall to pieces at any moment. Perhaps she could have.

Before Erika could fully recover, John entered to change her bandages and Sherlock stood against the wall, watching her closely. She winced and cursed as he ripped off old bandages and pour antiseptic into the wounds, all the while muttering he was sorry; she didn't seem to hear him at all.

This routine continued for days, with Erika never leaving her bed save to go to the bathroom. Sherlock could see how much pain she was in, of every sort, but he had no idea what to do. He considered asking John but thought that might indicate weakness which was something he never liked to show. Because of this, he resolved to standing against the wall, silently watching over her all the time.

A week after she had come to them, Sherlock walked in holding a dress on a hanger. It was black with long sleeves and a high neckline, clearly to cover her scars. On seeing it, Erika looked up at him, noticing how Sherlock was also dressed in black. At that moment she understood what they were doing. She started sobbing and Sherlock sat down beside her on the bed.

"I can't do it," she choked through her tears. "I can't."

He was about to protest when John came to the doorway, also dressed in black, and shook his head. On seeing this, Sherlock instead stood, nodding softly to himself. He then hung the dress on the back of the door and, before leaving, said, "You know where we are if you change your mind."

She nodded and he left. John watched his friend walk into the living room with his head hung low. He turned and spoke. "How could she know where we're going?"

Sherlock allowed himself a small, half smile and laugh. "She knows where I was buried and where she was. She'll know where to find him now."

The funeral was small with only three attendants; Sherlock, John and Mrs Hudson. The trio watched as the child's body was buried, none of them speaking or looking up from the patch of earth where Sherlock's son lay. When it ended, they all made their way back to Baker Street. Mrs Hudson went back to her flat while the two men went upstairs. They were about to enter when they heard scuffling and movement from inside. Fearing the worst, they hastily opened the door.

Inside the flat, Erika stood frozen, a small piece of paper grasped in her hands. She was dressed and looking decent with all her wounds bandaged. She looked up at the men with tears in her eyes, clearly surprised to see them. Sherlock looked around the flat and then at her, picking up on her motives. "Why?"

Erika's eyes fell to the floor and a tear slid down her cheek. She crumpled the paper in her hand, committing herself to speaking in person. "You don't need me anymore. You have John."

John looked at her, confused and guilty but Sherlock's gaze stayed stony as before as she continued. "You and me…if there ever was a you and me…I was only there because it was convenient, for both of us. And I don't regret it, it's just…"

She stopped, looking down at the floor before taking a deep breath and finishing. "Sherlock, all I've done since we met is hurt you. You don't deserve that. I'm sorry."

As she finished, John looked to Sherlock, expecting him to protest. Expecting him to tell her she was being an idiot and she didn't have to leave. John was waiting for a response but there was none. Instead Sherlock's eyes saddened and he nodded, ever so slightly; clearly not a signal of confirmation, merely that of acceptance. Erika let another tear fall down her cheek and she walked towards the door slowly, clearly both in hesitation and pain.

John made to glare at Sherlock as she began the descent down the stairs but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Sherlock was staring at the ground, unmoving and depressed. He was about to lay a hand on his shoulder when he watched two words form on his best friend's lips.

"Don't go."

Erika stopped in her tracks and turned, looking up to see Sherlock staring at the ground. He looked up at her, his eyes moist. He walked down to her, so he stood on the step below her. "Please, don't go."

"You don't need me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Sherlock shook his head and grabbed her hand, he pulled her slowly back up the stairs and she followed obediently. When they were again at the top of the stairs, Sherlock pulled her hand to his lips. She watched him closely, unsure what to do. Still bent, he looked up at her through his eyelashes.

"I lost you once. Don't make me lose you again." At this Erika let a sob pass her lips and he hugged her to his chest. She cried softly into his shirt and he awkwardly held her, patting her hair. She whispered "I'm sorry" over and over again as she emptied out her emotion. John watched the pair silently, unsure what her should do. Eventually he settled for slowly leaving the room and returning to his.

A few minutes passed before Erika sobs finally subsided and she looked up at Sherlock through tear-stained eyes. Without thinking, he leant down and gently pressed his lips to hers. This was their first sign of intimacy since her arrival and she clung onto it, wrapping her arm around his neck. They remained like that for a while, neither wanting to let the other go or push the other into intimacy they weren't ready for but finally, they did pull apart.

She allowed a small smile to cross her lips, enough to show how happy she was through her sorrow. Sherlock leant forward and kissed her forehead softly, wanting to show her it was alright. He pulled her into a hug and they stayed there, content. Then for the first time since Erika appeared, she spoke about William.

"He was so beautiful." The words were whispered into his chest so softly that Sherlock almost didn't hear them. When he did, he smiled sadly, and pulled her in closer.

"He was perfect."

Neither knew how long they stayed there, but neither wanted to move. Together they finally shared their sadness and both knew that, in this, they would find their strength.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

After the previous day's events, there was a change in Erika. It was clear she was still in a deep state of mourning but she was trying to appear normal. When John awoke that morning, he came downstairs to find her cleaning the kitchen. He stood stunned for a moment before Erika noticed him.

"Good morning, Dr Watson."

"Morning," he answered tentatively. "Umm…what are you doing?"

"My share," she said with a smile. She turned away from him and directed her attention to the stove. "Would you like some breakfast?"

"Uh…sure." And with that said, she placed a plate of eggs on the table in front of him along with a cup of tea. He thanked her and started to eat. She sat down across from him and he noticed she had nothing in front of her.

"Aren't you eating?" She smiled.

"I will, just after you've finished. Old habit."

"What do you mean?"

"My family were a little…eccentric. When I was a kid my Dad would always eat first, then my Mum, then me; a sort of pecking order. I guess it stuck."

"Hmm." This was the only reacting John could think of so he continued to eat and she merely sat there, watching him silently. Then a thought crossed his mind and he stopped, looking up at Erika.

"Look," he started, and she gave him her attention. "About when I last saw you. I'm sorry. I should have listened to you and I definitely shouldn't have-"

"It's okay," she said, cutting him off. She reached across the table and laid her hand on his. "I would have been angry too."

"I know, but that's no excuse for…what I did."

She smiled at him softly. "It's okay. It's not your fault. You just found out I used to work for the man who kill your friend. You had more restraint than I would have done."

He let a smile cross his lips before another thought occurred to him. "Does Sherlock…?"

"Yes," she said, looking away. "He knows. He found out fifteen minutes after you did."

"Oh," John said, his mind going blank. Erika let out a laugh at seeing his expression.

"Don't worry, John. He would have found out eventually, I'm just glad it was from me. And if anyone should be apologising, it should be me."

"What for?"

"For lying to you for so long! I told him every day to go and see you. To tell you he was alive but he wouldn't do it. He was so scared you'd get hurt."

She looked down at the table before raising her eyes back at the army doctor. "How about we both forgive and forget?"

"Agreed," she answered. They both laughed at the absurdity of the agreement and it was like this that Sherlock found the pair when he woke up. He looked between them and raised an eyebrow. They looked at him and laughed again. Erika stood and cleared away John's empty plates. Sherlock took her space in her absence. She then placed Sherlock's breakfast in front of him and another cup of tea before John. Sherlock looked up at her quizzically.

"You took care of me for a long time Sherlock, and now I'm paying back my debt. Also," she said, leaning in dangerously close to him. "If you don't eat it, I'll force it down your throat."

Sherlock looked up at her with an unimpressed look. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him. After glaring at each other for a while, Sherlock took a bite. She smiled and walked back into the kitchen, washing up the dishes. John looked at Sherlock, amazed to see the power that Erika clearly held over him. Sherlock glared at him, indicating that he should drop the thought and he smirked widely.

After Sherlock finished, Erika took his plate and made herself some toast. She brought it, along with a mug off coffee, to the table but discovered that both seats were occupied. Without batting an eyelash, she placed her food on the table in front of Sherlock and sat on his lap. John choked on a sip of his tea and the couple looked at him, amused.

"Problem?" Sherlock said casually. John coughed before answering.

"No. No problem." Erika giggled a little and took a bite of her toast, focusing herself on her breakfast. Sherlock continued to watch John, amused by his reactions to the situation. Stunned, John just sipped his tea and watched the couple.

When Erika finished her breakfast, she made to get up but found two arms wrapped around her waist, stopping her. She let out a gasp of protest before trying to get up again. John watched the pair struggle, amused.

"Don't get up, you're warm."

"I need to clean up, Sherlock."

"In a minute." And with this he buried his face in her neck, on the side without bite marks. She smiled and leant back into him. Sherlock simply nuzzled into her, his nose rubbing against the skin there, and she let out a short sigh. They both seemed a little lost in the moment until John cleared his throat loudly. Erika looked at him and Sherlock lazily looked up, smirking at his friend. "Yes?"

"I'd say get a room but that would be useless."

"Indeed it would," Sherlock said, smirking widely. "However, you've had your girlfriends around often enough and I don't complain."

"All you do complain."

"Well not much," he said and Erika smirked. "The point is why aren't I entitled to the same thing?"

"You are," John answered simply. "But I don't make out in front of you and I'd appreciate it if you didn't either."

"We weren't making out," Erika piped up. "We were only hugging. This would be making out."

And without warning she kissed Sherlock deeply. He froze for a second before reciprocating. They kissed for a minute before pulling apart. They both looked at John who appeared to be in a sort of state of shock. They laughed.

"What's the matter John? Cat got your tongue?" John made to form an insult but it stopped in his throat. He was amazed to see his friend, who by his own mind was a sociopath, be so openly intimate with someone else. To say he was astonished would be understating it.

Erika raised an eyebrow before standing up, Sherlock releasing her, and taking her dishes to the sink. As she washed them up, John and Sherlock looked at each other across the table. John finally managed to express some emotion but unfortunately it was that of a schoolboy. He smirked at Sherlock wickedly. Sherlock reacted by rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the newspaper in front of him.

When Erika was done, she moved back so she was standing beside John. "I apologise for that, I just couldn't resist."

Then she leant down and kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him. He knew this was for the conversation they'd had previously as well so he hugged her back. When they pulled apart, Erika looked at Sherlock and laughed. His face was slightly glaring.

"Jealous?"

"Hardly," he said, turning away. She pouted.

"Come on now. Don't be like that. We're friends."

"I'm not jealous." The second those words were out of his mouth she pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. He tried to deepen it and she pulled away, laughing.

"Liar."


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Later that day, John and Erika were sitting at the table, catching up for the first time in to long without any lies. They were laughing and smiling, enjoying each other's company again. John would like to say she was completely happy but every now and then, she'd turn away and her face would fall in sorrow. He knew that the loss of a child wasn't something you merely brushed off, so he let her be, waiting for her to come back to reality.

It was during one of these moods that Sherlock came over to the pair, carrying two mugs filled with liquid. He hands them to the pair who looked up at him, suspicious.

"What is this?" John's voice is suspicious and a little pointed.

"It's coffee. I made you both coffee." Sherlock then smiled slightly and John sighed.

""Sherlock, you can stop apologising. It's all fine."

Looking ever so slightly dejected, Sherlock nodded sadly. John let out a sigh and lifted the mug to his lips before he came in contact with Erika's hand which she had placed across the mug. He looked up and she smiled at him. "Don't drink that John."

"Why?" She winked at him, picked up both their mugs and pushed past Sherlock who glared at her pointedly. She smirked before going into the kitchen and dramatically poured both cups down the drain with a puff of steam. Then she put them both down on the bench and walked back so she was standing directly in front of Sherlock.

"You are never allowed to make coffee again."

"And why is that?" the detective enquired innocently, but Erika saw straight through him.

"Because formaldehyde isn't a standard ingredient."

What!?" John stood quickly but his reaction appeared to have no effect on the pair who now glared at each other. Despite this, the doctor was desperate to be acknowledged. "You tried to poison us?"

"No," Sherlock said, turning to his flatmate sharply. "It wouldn't have caused you any real harm. Well, no lasting harm. It was an experiment."

"A bloody experiment!"

"John, please," Erika said levelly, raising a hand to him, indicating that he should calm himself, before turning back to Sherlock. "I don't care how bored you are, you don't experiment on us. I don't care what purpose you think it has. We aren't your test subjects."

Sherlock glared at her. "What if it saves a life?"

"I don't care if it saves the bloody Queen! You don't test anything on us without our knowledge!" The angrier she got, the more her accent slipped and she began to sound more Russian with every syllable. Sherlock looked at her with a mixture between anger and boredom.

"Dull."

"Necessary."

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something when he remembered John was still in the room, his eyes darting quickly to his flatmate. He bit his tongue before hissing out, "Vy dolzhny opredelenno izuchatʹ nemetskiĭ yazyk. Vse natsist·skie nyeobkhodimosti govoritʹ na odnom yazyke." _(You should definitely learn German. All Nazi's need to speak the same language)_

John looked at Sherlock, confused by what he said but he was aware that Erika must have understood it from the way she recoiled.

"Yanatsist·skoĭ potomu chto ya khochu zhitʹ?" _(I'm a Nazi because I want to live?)_

"Balʹzamirovanie zhidkosti ne sdelal by vam nikakogo vreda." _(The embalming fluid wouldn't have done you any harm)_

"Na etot raz," _(This time)._ At this a flash of guilt crossed his face and Erika let a small smile cross her face. She pressed a hand to his cheek, returning to English. "I just got off death row, Sherlock. Please don't put me back on."

"I'm sorry." John's head snapped up from where it had previously been looking at the floor after this statement. Sherlock Holmes rarely apologised unless he felt truly guilty. Unsure of what was said in Russian, John wasn't completely sure what he had heard the pair exchange, but he had a reasonable understanding. He watched as Erika brushed her thumb along his cheek and smiled. It was then she turned to John and noticed his staring. She pulled her hand away and smiled.

"How about I make us all some real coffee?" And without waiting for an answer she disappeared back into the kitchen. John and Sherlock remained still, John staring at Sherlock and Sherlock staring after Erika. A minute later Erika appeared with two mugs of coffee.

"Here you are, boys. I'm going out." She handed them both to the two men before turning to Sherlock, looking a little sheepish. "Umm, I was wondering if I could…I mean…I left everything behind so…"

Sherlock smirked a little. "Your bag from Thornton Place is hanging near my coat and you can take my card."

Erika made a disapproving look. "I only need a few coins."

"You're not performing in this state. Take my card."

She smiled widely and leant down, kissing Sherlock on the cheek before going to get her bag and Sherlock's card. She was on her way out when John called after her. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Shopping. We're out of milk, bread, butter and in fact anything even vaguely edible. I'll be back."

And with that said she disappeared out the door with a careful wave, her arm still hurting her. When she left, John turned to Sherlock with a smirk on his face. Sherlock tried his best to ignore him but eventually couldn't avoid his curiosity. "What?"

"Nothing," John started, shaking his head and chuckling. "It's just that you're the last person I would ever have pictured in a domestic situation."

"Shut-up, John."


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Erika wrapped her coat tighter around her as she made her way to the grocery. It was only a few blocks so she walked slowly down the road, in no real hurry. She breathed in deeply, glad to be outside and free for the first time in so long. She smiled to herself as she made her way.

When she was a block away she noticed a woman across the street that was about her age. She had a petite frame and with light brown hair pulled back into a messy bun. She didn't appear to be wearing any make-up except some light gloss on her lips. She was wearing a dark jacket, faded blue jeans and a pair of trainers. All her attention seemed to be focused on the tripod and camera set up in front of her. She was hunched over it, watching the screen intently. Curious, Erika crossed the road and approached her.

"What are you taking photos of?"

"People," the woman answered simply without looking up. She took another few photos and looked at her camera with great irritation. "I. Don't. Want. Grain. The ISO is on 100, why are you coming out so grainy?"

"What kind of camera do you use?"

At this the woman looked up and smiled slyly before answering. "A Nikon D5100 with the Nikkor 18-55mm VR lens."

"Right," Erika answered and the woman turned back to the camera. They were silent for a moment before Erika spoke again. "So, what camera are you using?"

The woman let out a loud laugh and smiled widely, coming back to look at her interrogator. "A Nikon with a kit lens. Name's Mary Morstan."

"Erika Butler," Erika replied, holding out her undamaged arm. The two shook hands and smiled, both seeming to get along well. Mary turned back to her camera and Erika watched for a while.

"So you said you were taking photos of people," Erika started. "Care to specify?"

Mary let out a light chuckle. "It's for my collection on urbanisation. I'm trying to capture people's daily lives and bring out the beauty in the mundane."

"Deep."

"Tedious," Mary said, looking up again. "As fascinated as I am by it, my subjects," she said, waving her hand at the people around them, "aren't doing anything interesting. That's the curse of shooting the mundane."

Erika chuckled as Mary went back to her camera, trying desperately to make good use of the people before eventually throwing her hands in the air in frustration. "I give up! My subjects refuse to do anything even vaguely interesting. The end!"

"Would you like me to do something?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I could just walk up and down the street for a while, changing things. Or I could evoke reactions from people. If you want, that is. I don't want your photos to seem staged."

"No," Mary said with a smile twisting at the corner of her mouth. "That would be fantastic if you could."

"No problem," Erika said and, with a wave, she crossed back to the other side of the street and began. For the next half hour she did laps of the street in every way; running, walking, jogging, dancing, singing, hesitating and a million other things she could think off. Sometimes she would stand on the edge of the street and yell things at the top of her lungs, earning her looks from people that would no doubt look fantastic on camera. Then, she did the only other thing she could think of and she stood in the middle of the street and sang. Some people stopped and listened, some put money in the hat she had placed on the ground, and others just walked past. Either way, she thought it would give Mary something to photograph. Erika was about to try something else when she saw Mary waving at her from across the street. Smiling, she crossed to the other side of the road where the photographer stood.

"That was brilliant! I've got some great shots! I especially love this one." With that said, she showed her model a photo of the whole street turning to look at Erika who was shouting at the top of her lungs. They both laughed at the absurdity of the theme. "I think I'll call it 'Extra, Extra!'"

"Read all about it," Erika finished with a giggle. The two laughed for a little while and went through some of the photos. There were over a thousand taken but they all seemed to be so interesting and real.

"You've helped me so much. I can't thank-you enough," Mary said with a grin. "How about I buy you a coffee?"

"Sure," Erika answered. She helped Mary pack up all her equipment and they carried everything to a nearby café. They sat down and Mary ordered them both a black coffee. While they waited for their beverages, they got to talking about Mary's collections.

"So why did you take all those photos?" Erika questioned. "You said it was for your collection but…"

"I'm putting on an exhibition," Mary answered.

"That's fantastic!" The taller of the women explained. Their drinks arrived and they thanked the waitress. Mary tore open a packet of sugar and poured it into her drink before stirring it and taking a sip. "When will it be displayed?"

"When someone wants it," Mary said with a sigh. "As passionate as I am about photography, if no-one likes it, well, it's not going to pay the rent."

Erika nodded. She understood what it was like to be passionate about something with no hope of getting anything from it. "So what do you do to pay the rent?"

"I sell a few photos now and then, sometimes people pay me to take their portrait, but that doesn't amount to much. I work at a school in Birmingham, teaching history. Got a degree and I thought it would be a waste not to use it."

"So it would," Erika said, taking a long sip of her coffee and enjoying the familiar, bitter taste.

"So what about you?" Mary said with a smile. "What do you do when you're not shouting in the street?"

"I, um…" Erika started, unsure how to put this. "I'm a street performer."

"A busker?"

"Yeah, but I haven't done any real busking in a long time. I got…side-tracked."

"So what do you do now?"

"I suppose I'm unemployed," Erika said with a sigh.

"Then how do you pay your rent? Got a flatmate?"

"Sort of. I live with my…boyfriend and his flatmate."

"You hesitated," Mary said, pointing at her with her index finger whilst holding her cup. She took a sip of her coffee. "Why did you hesitate?"

"I'm not sure what he is if I'm honest," Erika admitted sheepishly. Mary let out a short laugh.

"Is he more than a friend?"

"Yes."

"More than a lover?"

"Yes."

"Then he's your boyfriend," Mary concluded.

"I suppose he is," Erika said with a smile, drinking more of her coffee. "The term just doesn't quite seem to fit him."

"What's so special about him?"

"He's…" She stopped, not knowing quite what to say. "He's brilliant! He's smart, sexy, funny, loving and down-right infuriating!"

"Sounds like a catch to me," Mary said, smirking at the word _infuriating_. "At least you have someone to go home to. Two someone's actually."

"Are you telling me no-one's snapped you up yet?" Erika said with a slightly flirtatious look. Mary let out a loud laugh.

"I was engaged, about three years ago, but we broke it off."

"Why?"

"He slept with my roommate."

"Ouch," Erika said sympathetically, lowering her eyes. Mary laughed.

"He was an asshole, I'm glad to be rid of him. Looking back it never would have worked." Erika smiled a little at this, glad she hadn't brought up a painful memory. God knows she'd had enough of those. They laughed for a little while.

"So, you've been single since then?"

"A few boyfriends here and there but nothing that lasts," she said with a sigh. "I'm just looking for someone permanent. Someone who cares about me but isn't chained to my side or completely absent. I want a guy who can give me space without leaving me alone."

Erika nodded and took a sip before Mary continued. "And he has to be good in bed."

The two laughed loudly at that, the randomness of the comment amusing them both endlessly. They talked about other things for a while, nothing of any great importance, and laughed their way to the bottom of two cups of coffee. Finally, Mary looked down at her watch.

"Shit! I've got some work to do. Sorry to rush of."

"We've been here an hour and a half, it's hardly rushing," Erika answered with a laugh. Mary handed £40 to the waitress before grabbing a napkin, scribbling something on it before handing it to Erika.

"I had fun. Here's my number. Give me a call some time and we can do it again."

"Absolutely," Erika said, looking down at the number. "See ya."

"Bye!" And with that, Mary disappeared. Erika sat there, smiling for a moment before she stood and left, going to get the groceries as had been her original intention. The whole time she was running around the store, she had a smile plastered on her face. For the first time in over two years, she had a friend.

Paying for the items, she left the store and walked back to 221B where she was greeted by a baritone voice drifting to her from the sofa. "What took you so long?"

Home, sweet home.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The following morning, John was woken by a sound he hated to admit he'd grown familiar with. A gunshot resounded through the walls of 221B and he ran downstairs to find Sherlock Holmes in his dressing gown, sprawled out over his chair with a gun aimed at the smiley face painted on the wall. It was too early in the morning to yell so instead he took the gun from his hand and spoke firmly.

"Mrs Hudson'll have your head for that."

Sherlock took one look at his disgruntled flatmate and smiled slightly. "Not if you have it first."

He was about to say something When Erika came charging into the room wrapped in one of Sherlock's dressing gown. Apparently, for her, it wasn't too early to yell.

"What the hell was that!"

"I'm bored," Sherlock said with his eyes closed.

"I don't give a damn! You don't fire guns inside!" Sherlock gave her a look that screamed _make me_ but the anger in her eyes stopped him in his tracks. He slumped back in his seat, his head lolling back. Erika turned to John who gave her a small smile. She sighed and made them both tea. They sat at the table, ignoring their grumbling flatmate.

"I don't know how you put up with him," Erika said, blowing across the surface of her mug.

"I could say the same of you," John said with a smile. "But you lived with him for a while. Surely he got bored there as well."

"Sometimes," she answered. "I told him to kill a prostitute for all I cared."

The pair laughed and continued to talk as Sherlock sat there, tapping on the furniture. His whole body was brimming with energy and he couldn't stop himself from twitching. His mind was racing and he could see everything. His every sense was burning with information and his brain tried to process it all. Eventually he let out a frustrated groan and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. It was at this moment the craving hit.

Looking up, he saw Erika and John still talking and he interrupted. "John, get me some."

"No," John said without looking at him.

"I need them."

"No, you don't. We've been through this for months. Deal with it."

Sherlock hissed angrily, his whole body twitching. He looked over at Erika and then a small smile crept across his lips. She knew what it was like, she would have sympathy; something easily exploitable.

"Erika?" He said sweetly. Erika turned around slowly and looked at him with bored eyes.

"Yes dear?"

"Give me some of yours."

"You smoke?" John's interruption lead to both party's turning to look at him. Sherlock nodded but said nothing. Erika, however, did.

"No. And no, Sherlock."

"But I'm BORED!" Sherlock moaned, finally giving up his fake niceties. He leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. He then felt a warm pressure on his legs. Opening his eyes he found Erika sitting on his lap, her eyes teasing. She reached into the pocket of his dressing gown and pulled out his phone. Scrolling through numbers she eventually found the one she was looking for. Smiling, she pulled out her phone, typed in the number, and pressed dial.

Erika smirked as the phone rang, knowing it would be picked up fairly soon. Sure enough, after the third ring it was answered. "Lestrade."

"Inspector," Erika started, smiling. "Very soon you are going to have two highly important visitors. Please be in your office in one hour. Thank-you."

And with that, she hung up before the Inspector had a chance to ask any question. Sherlock had a grin spread wide across his face but John was still confused.

"I'm sorry, what's happening."

"What is happening, Doctor Watson," Erika said, stretching herself back to her full height. "Is that the greatest crime-fighting duo in history are making their grand reappearance."

Sherlock stood quickly and leant down to kiss Erika on the cheek. She blushed lightly as he disappeared to get dressed. She looked down at her hands for a while before feeling John's gaze on her. She looked up and their eyes met.

"Why would you do that for him?"

"I know what it's like to be bored," she sighed. "Bored and far too alive."

Within half an hour all three of them were dressed, fed and washed. John shouted out to Mrs Hudson that they were leaving as they ran out the door, called a cab and piled in. Addressing the cabbie, Erika told him to take her to Scotland Yard. Sherlock let a smile spread across his face as they journeyed there. Arriving at the building they all stepped out, leaving John to pay, and walked to the door. They were about to enter when Erika held out her hand to stop them.

"Sherlock, hide your face. John, try to act casually."

"Why?" Sherlock said, his face a mask on confusion. Erika smirked.

"Because you and I both have a personality made for the theatre. Come on." And with that she pulled the door open and stepped into the lobby. She smiled at the officer behind a front desk. "I'm here to see Inspector Lestrade. He's expecting me."

"I'm sorry, you can't go up there without permission." Sherlock fought the urge to reveal his face in order to glare at the man but Erika beat him to it, however she was far more subtle. Smiling sweetly, she leant forward and picked up the phone off his desk.

"Why don't you call him?" she purred and, stunned, the officer complied. Before a full minute passed, he spluttered an apology for making them wait before taking them to the elevator. Erika and Sherlock's eyes met in a silent laugh. When the elevator arrived, the three stepped in, the officer instructing them where to go before turning back to his desk. As soon as the door closed, all three burst into a fit of giggles.

"Well, I definitely didn't see that coming," John said with a smile.

"Which part?" Erika pressed.

"The...flirting." On the word, Sherlock turned with angry eyes to John. He could recognise the jealousy that burned there and was about to say something when Erika beat him to it.

"You're sexy when you're possessive," she said, grabbing his chin and turning his face to hers before pressing a soft peck to his lips. She then turned back to the doors just before they opened. With that they returned to their impenetrable façade. Sherlock's disguise attracted a few curious stares but nothing to concern themselves with. Eventually they came to Lestrade's office. Erika turned to them both and said with force, "Wait out here."

Then she knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer. Inside sat Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade with his feet on the desk and a mug of coffee in his hands. On seeing her he removed his feet from the table and put the mug down hastily, looking a little sheepish at being caught. Erika smiled and shut the door behind her, holding out her hand.

"I'm Erika Butler, we spoke on the phone." He took her hand, shaking it but said nothing, so she swiftly moved on. "I expect you're curious as to who your guests are."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," he said, grumblingly. She allowed a small smile to twist the corner of her lips.

"Well then, I'll put you out of your misery." With that, she turned and opened the door, motioning to the men to enter. They did so and Lestrade saw them, doing a double take. Erika closed the door and walked in front of them. "May I present Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson."


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Lestrade fell back in his chair, his mouth hanging open. Sherlock smirked a little. There was silence for a while before John spoke. "Greg, are you alright?"

"Of course I'm not bloody alright! Either I'm hallucinating or I've fallen asleep and this is a nightmare."

"No nightmares, no hallucination," Sherlock said, stepping forward. "I'm real. I'm alive."

Lestrade was stunned silent for a few moments before pointing at Sherlock and turning to John. "Have you punched him?"

John let out a short laugh. "Yes, I have."

"Good," Greg said, lowering his hand. "Because if you hadn't I was going too."

"Well, it's not necessary," John said with a smirk as Sherlock instinctively raised his hand to his face, gently scratching the skin where John had punched him.

"I know you have a lot of questions, Inspector, but before that I have one for you," Erika said, reinstating her presence and seating herself across from Lestrade. "How in need are you of a consultant detective?"

"Desperately," Lestrade said with a sigh, ashamed he needed an amateur to help him do his job. Erika smiled and stood, clearly getting ready to take a case when Lestrade spoke again. "But I can't give you a case."

At this Erika froze and spun around. Cocking her head to the side slightly, she said pointedly one word. "What?"

"I can't give you a case, Sherlock," Lestrade said, standing up and walking around the desk so he was in front of the trio. He looked Sherlock in the eye and spoke directly. "Around here, your name is still smeared and we can't consult with a criminal."

"He's not a criminal. You know that!" John said in his friends defence. Lestrade looked at them apologetically.

"Look, I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do. You may have been gone a year but your name is still Mud. I can't get you a case."

Sherlock and John were both about to say something but Erika silenced them with a wave of her hand. She walked over to the detective and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Can we talk outside?"

Lestrade nodded and led her out of the room. Erika turned back and winked at the pair before closing the door behind her. John and Sherlock looked at each other for a second before smiles broke out across their faces and they let out a small giggle. Sherlock sat down in Lestrade's chair and John sat across from him.

"Erika's going to give him hell."

"If she's feeling kind," Sherlock answered with a smirk plastered across his face. The pair laughed for a little while, making small conversation. About a quarter-hour after they left, the door swung open, revealing a woman with her head buried in papers.

"Sir, I need you to-" Sergeant Donovan stopped in her tracks when she looked up and saw Sherlock and John. They both smiled slightly and she stepped back a few steps before turning to John.

"This is sick. You've gone and found yourself a look alike to keep you company?"

Sherlock scoffed slightly and John shot him a glare. "I'm not a look alike, _Sally_."

She took another step back when she heard his voice before gaining her courage and walking up to him, poking him in the chest. "You were dead. I went to your funeral."

"You went to someone's funeral," he said with a smile. "Not surprised you got the wrong one."

She managed a demeaning smile before the door opened again, all heads turning to it, and Anderson stepped into the room.

"What the hell's taking so long? How hard can it be to sign some-" He stopped in his tracks and looked at the group in there. On meeting Sherlock's eye he quickly looked away, turning instead to Donovan. "Is he real."

"Sadly, yes," she said, turning back to Sherlock. "Turns out freaks don't die when they do a superman of a building."

John shuddered lightly at the memory before regaining his composure, hoping no-one noticed. However, he felt Sherlock's eyes on him and he nodded, answering the unspoken question; _are you alright?_ On getting an answer, Sherlock turned back to the two other occupants of the room.

"If you wouldn't mind leaving. I have an appointment with Inspector Lestrade."

"What?" Sally said with a laugh. "You can't come back here. You created all the cases you solved to look clever. I'll kill you before you create another one. You're a fraud."

And with that she stood and left, Anderson following behind. Sherlock stared after them, his eyes cold and calculating, however John knew he was hurt, if only a little. A few more minutes passed before the door opened again and Lestrade and Erika walked in. Erika smiled at them.

"I hear you had some visitors?"

"Indeed we did," John grumbled. Erika's smile fell slightly. Sherlock hadn't yet looked up but now he did and saw the file in her hands.

"You've got a case?"

"Sort of," Lestrade said, shifting from one foot to the other. "I can't give you any new cases but this one's cold."

"We thought if you could prove that you possess the skills you do on a case you couldn't have been involved in, it might get you back in with the force," Erika finished.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "They could still accuse me of it."

"You have an airtight alibi," Lestrade said.

"There's no such thing."

"There is now," Erika said, sitting down on the desk. "There is no way that you could have been involved in this case in anyway."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing. "How old is the case?"

"Um, it's been cold a long time so-" Lestrade started but Sherlock cut him off again.

"How old is this case?"

"Eight years, four months," Erika said quickly. Sherlock's stare became harsh and she lowered her eyes and Lestrade looked away.

"No."

"Sherlock," Erika pleaded. "It's the only case you have an absolute alibi for."

"Find an older case 30 years cold or something."

"We can't! The older they are the more likely they are to be corrupt. Plus many have already been solved. You need something fresh."

"I'm not taking it," Sherlock said, standing up and grabbing his coat. He started to leave when Erika spoke with a dangerous amount of authority in her voice. "Sherlock Holmes, you will take this case."

Sherlock turned and walked back so that he and Erika were nose to nose. "Or what?"

"Or Inspector Lestrade arrests you."

Sherlock smiled slightly. "For what?"

"For drug possession," Lestrade said stepping forward. Sherlock turned around and faced Lestrade, angry.

"I'm clean. You know I'm clean."

"Then why is there 12 ounces of heroin in your pocket?"

"What, I don't have-" Sherlock started, feeling his pocket before noticing the lump in it. Slowly he reached in and pulled out a small bag filled with white powder. He turned and looked at Erika, shocked. She smiled sadly.

"I can get a ring off your finger without you noticing. You think I can't put a bag in your pocket?"

"You said you were clean."

"I am," she answered slowly. "But the overworked drug cop napping downstairs isn't."

Sherlock looked from her to Lestrade, confused before looking down at the bag in his hands. "You tricked me."

"I'm helping you," Erika said with a slight smile. She came forward and took his hand, subtly taking the bag away. "Will you take the case?"

Sherlock was still for a moment before he nodded. As soon as he did this, Lestrade pulled an audio recorder from his pocket and pressed 'record'.

"For evidence, Sherlock, where were you on the night of the 12th of March, 2004?"

"I…" Sherlock started looking over at John. John returned the stare with confusion in his eyes. Sherlock let out a sigh before continuing. "I, Sherlock Holmes, on the night of the 12th of March, 2004, was in a drug rehabilitation centre in London."


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Lestrade laid down the case for Sherlock. A forty-eight year old woman had been found dead in her home after a fire. An autopsy showed that she had died of asphyxiation before the fire started. It was believed that a person, or persons, unknown killed her and burnt the evidence but nothing could be found to identify them.

Sherlock spent the first five minutes ranting about the police's incompetence in the matter. Lestrade and John looked at each other as if to say _just like old times_. Erika simply watched from the corner with a smirk on her face. A good half hour passed with Sherlock examining all the evidence he had and sitting in silence when the door opened and Sergeant Donovan and Anderson walked in. They saw Sherlock and groaned.

"Still here then?"

"Obviously," he muttered, turning over a piece of paper to read the other side. Donovan shook her head and walked over to Lestrade. "I need you to sign these."

"Fine," he said and quickly signed them all. She smiled dryly and went to leave when she noticed Erika.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Sherlock's…friend."

"Friend?" Donovan said with a laugh. "Unbelievable. The freak's got two friends."

She started to leave when Erika called after her. "I'm sorry, what did you call him."

All the air in the room seemed to disappear as Sally turned around and faced her. "I called him a freak."

"He's not a freak," Erika said, taking a step closer. "He's brilliant."

"He's an obnoxious fraud and nothing else."

"He's not a fraud. And he's not a freak."

"Erika," Sherlock started, hearing how worked up she was starting to get. "Leave it."

"No!" Erika said sharply, turning to face him. "You've done nothing but good things for them. You help them for no cost or personal payment and let them take the credit for your work, yet they treat you like dirt. And you let them!"

The last sentence was shouted in Donovan's face as she spun back around to her. At this, Anderson spoke up. "He didn't solve cases, he invented them."

"He did solve them! He's better than all of you combined and to counter act it you act like children!"

"Erika, calm down," John said, standing up and laying a hand on her good shoulder.

"No! I won't calm down! He's not a freak!"

"He is," Anderson said with a slight smirk on his face. "It's the only word to describe something so despicable, unknown and ridiculed. Freak."

The next thing any of them were aware of was Erika standing dead still, as if she had turned to stone. Everyone else was confused but Sherlock knew that when she stood like a statue, someone was about to get hurt and he had a good idea who.

Before anyone knew what was happening, Erika leapt forward and punched Anderson repeated with everything she had. Donovan grabbed her arms and pulled her off him as she was still trying to attack him. Anderson pinched his bleeding nose and stood up from where he had fallen. John and Sherlock stood, frozen in shock and Lestrade was deliciously slow to react. But when he did, it was to perform his duty.

"Erika Butler, you are under arrest for assault."

Erika had stopped fighting and was now standing calmly. She smiled. "I figured as much."

Sherlock's lips twitched as he fought a smile. Donovan pushed her out of the room and Lestrade followed. "Stay here and solve the case."

The door shut and Erika was lead down to the elevator. She was still smiling a little at the reactions that people kept shooting her on seeing Anderson's bloody nose. _Worth it,_ she thought. The three piled in, Anderson leaving to go fix himself up, and Lestrade pressed a level. The door closed silently.

When they opened again, she found herself facing a long row of jail cells, all unoccupied, for now at least. They lead her to the first one, opened the door and Donovan, roughly, pushed her into it. She smiled and sat down on the bed, leaning back against the wall. Through the door she heard Lestrade say, "Sherlock will come down when he's finished."

"I know," she said with a smile and lay down, prepared to wait for him, knowing that she wouldn't be charged.

"It was her ex-husband," Sherlock said triumphantly. After an hour of silence, John jumped a little at his friend's voice.

"What?"

"Her ex-husband. He pulled a plastic bag over her head and held it; you can see some of the marks."

"And the fire?"

"An accident," he answered simply. "He left the stove on."

John chuckled at the irony of the act. Sherlock pulled all the papers together and stood up. "Where are you going?"

"To find out if Erika's going to the rope," Sherlock answered with a smile. John smirked and they left, headed down to the cells. When they got there they found Lestrade sitting outside what they assumed was Erika's cell, filling out some paperwork.

"Ex-husband," Sherlock said. "Suffocated her with a plastic bag, left the stove on and burnt down the house."

"Okay," Lestrade answered, looking up. "Do you want to see her?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" Sherlock said, his tone condescending. Lestrade sighed and opened the door. Sherlock, Lestrade and John all walked in to find Erika lying stretched out on the bed comfortably. She looked up when they entered.

"Hello boys. 'Bout time you turned up."

"Got busy solving a murder," Sherlock said dryly and Erika waved her hand in the air.

"Excuses, Excuses."

"Umm…Sherlock," Lestrade said, butting in. "Are you going to pay her bail?"

Sherlock took a deep breath in, looked down at Erika and shook his head. She, to everyone's great surprised, laughed.

"Fine, I'll see you for dinner."

"Seven o'clock, don't be late." He turned to leave but Lestrade stopped him.

"Wait, you're not paying bail."

"No."

"Then Anderson will press charges. She'll end up in jail, Sherlock."

"No she won't."

"But unless you pay bail-"

"No, unless someone pays bail." And with that he walked out of the cell with a smile at Erika. Lestrade turned to John confused who smiled slightly.

"He's letting his brother meet the Missus. Bye Erika." And with a wave he was gone as well. Lestrade chuckled slightly and turned to his prisoner. She smiled at him.

"Any chance of some room service?" He laughed.

"Maybe when his big brother collects you." He started to leave when he was stopped by Erika calling after him.

"Inspector?" He turned to face her and she grinned. "You're welcome."

With that, Lestrade left, waiting until he got into the life before bursting into a fit of laughter. Erika Butler could be the perfect woman for Sherlock Holmes.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

It had been four hours since she'd been locked up and Erika was starting to worry. Surely Mycroft would have collected her by now? It was just as she started to consider using her right to a phone call to ask Sherlock to pay bail when there was a soft tap at her door. She sat up just in time for the door to open. The officer watching her spoke.

"You're bail's been posted." He swung the door wide open and stepped aside, revealing a thin woman dressed in black business-wear with a blackberry grasped in her palms. She didn't look up as she stepped forward. "You're coming with me."

"Thought so," Erika said with a sigh. She stood up and, with a wink at the officer, walked out the door with the woman in front of her. Her officer took them to the elevator and called it for them. When it arrived, the two women stepped in and Erika spoke to her officer. "Thanks so much for letting me stay here! I'll give you a glowing review at reception."

She thought she saw a twitch of his lips at her comment and smirked, hiding a giggle. The woman, who had until then been silent, looked up from her phone, curious but still saying nothing. Eventually she looked back down at her blackberry as the doors opened. They walked out towards the exit, Erika noticing the glare she was getting from Donovan, and left the building where a large, black Jag was waiting for them. Smirking at the over dramatics, Erika climbed into the car after the woman and they took off.

"Erika Butler, but I assume you know that." The woman looked up with a smile.

"Yes, I do."

"And your name is…?" she prompted.

"Anthea," she said without looking up. Erika let out a laugh and looked out the window. There was silence between them for a while before Anthea looked up again, curious. "You're not going to ask where you're going."

Erika scoffed a little. "I know where I'm going."

The rest of the journey was made in silence, the only sound coming from Anthea as she typed on her phone replies to a never ending stream of emails. When they finally reached their destination, Anthea just motioned for Erika to get out. She did so and the car drove off. It was only then that Erika looked up.

A plaque saying _The Diogenes Club_ confirmed her suspicions and she smiled. Walking inside, she remained as silent as possible but couldn't resist the urge to be a little naughty. She let her heels make a loud click on the marble floors, attracting everyone's attention as she walked. Eventually a man came up behind her and grabbed her. Normally she would have fought but she was aware of what was happening, so she went without a struggle.

She was taken into a room with two large chairs in the centre of it. After she was pushed into the room, the door was closed behind her. She smiled and turned in a circle, admiring the room around her. Then she sat in one of the chairs, facing the door so that when her host entered, she could see him straight away. It wasn't a long wait.

Not five minutes after she arrived, the door opened and Mycroft Holmes walked in. He was dressed well and carrying a large umbrella. On seeing her he smiled dryly, walking in and closing the door behind me. He walked to the other seat and sat, hanging his umbrella off the back of the chair. There was a long silence which Erika decided to break.

"It took you long enough to come for me. I thought I might have to call Sherlock." Mycroft looked up at her, his face a mask of indifference. Erika raised an eyebrow at him. "Conversations tend to work better if both party's speak."

"What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?" Mycroft asked blankly. Erika was taken aback a little before gathering herself and managing a look of fake insult.

"I'm rather hurt you don't know."

"Oh, I do know," Mycroft said with a smile, leaning forward. "I'd just like to know what you think you are."

"I'm his…girlfriend," she answered, hating how mundane the word was. Mycroft raised an eyebrow before smirking a little and standing.

"Indeed you are, Miss Butler." He walked around his chair so he was standing behind it, resting his fingers on the leather. "And it is because of this, I've brought you here."

"Which brings me back to my original question," Erika said, leaning forward in her chair. Mycroft's brow furrowed in confusion and Erika sighed. "What took you so long?"

"Well until recently, you were dead." Erika bit her lip and looked up at the elder Holmes. He was staring down at her icily and she hated the angle of power he seemed to be implying. To overcome this, she stood. Now they were both at the same height, she saw something in his eyes he clearly didn't want her too. She saw guilt, and immediately knew what had occurred.

"You knew where I was." She staggered back, sitting in her chair. "You knew I was with him."

She put her head in her hands and Mycroft sighed, sitting back down. "We were watching James Moriarty and, by chance, I found you."

"And you didn't tell him?" She asked, less concerned for her own safety than for Sherlock's. She knew how fragile he had been for all that time and was shocked by his own brother's dismissal of a fact that would have put him out of his misery. Mycroft looked down at his hands briefly.

"I didn't want him in Moriarty's path again."

"Fine," Erika said. "What about me?"

"We were planning a way to get you out, but there were delays. And we didn't want to cross James Moriarty again unprepared. By the time everything was ready you were in…no state to travel."

Erika felt a knot settle in the pit of her stomach as all the air seemed to rush from the room. Mycroft seemed to notice this and quickly tried to fix the situation. "I am sorry for your loss. Yours and Sherlock's."

She permitted herself a single tear before sobering herself up and trying to appear impassive. "Why have you brought me here?"

"I want to know your intentions."

Erika allowed herself a soft laugh. "Isn't that usually a question for the man in the relationship?"

Mycroft half-smiled. "Yes, but it still stands."

"I have none," she answered honestly. "I don't think about it. But do you really think I'd do anything to hurt him?"

"You already have," he said sharply and Erika felt like she'd been slapped. Mycroft stood again and started to circle her chair. "You broke him, battered him, beat him and abused him."

Erika was staring down at her hands and Mycroft let out a sigh, standing in front of her. "And you have done him more good than he'll ever know."

He looked up, shocked and he smiled. "You may not be perfect for him, Miss Butler, but for some reason, he chose you. To be honest, until today I didn't think you were right for him."

"What changed?" Erika couldn't hold back the question that burst from her lips and Mycroft let out a soft chuckle.

"What changed is you punched a man who's had it coming for a long time in Sherlock defence. Something I've been meaning to see to for a long time."

"In that case," Erika said with a smirk. "You're welcome."

She stood and they shook hands. He motioned for her to leave and she smiled, opening the door. She was about to walk out when he called after her.

"Miss Butler?" She turned to see him standing, examining the tip of his umbrella. "Don't break him again, or I'll break you."

Erika couldn't help but smile at the comment. "Don't worry, he's never getting rid of me."

And with that, she walked out of the room, a grin plastered on her face. She walked back out of the building and the same black car was waiting for her, but Anthea was absent. Smiling she got in. "221B Baker Street."

When she arrived home it was a little passed seven. She raised her hand to knock on the door, as she didn't have a key, but her fist didn't make contact with the wood before Sherlock had thrown open the door.

"You're late."

"Sorry dear," she said, pressing a quick peck to his lips and walking inside. "But you and your brother both share a love of the dramatic that can't be rushed."

When they got to the top of the stairs, John was waiting for them, a book in his hands. He looked up when she entered and smiled. "Hey, what's the verdict?"

"Tentative approval, but, an approval none the less."

"Mycroft approves?" Sherlock said, amazed. Erika turned to him and nodded. He smirked at her. "Well we can't have that, you'll have to go."

"Not without a court order," she answered, grinning. Sherlock and John both let out a laugh and Erika went to the stairs and yelled down them unceremoniously. "Mrs Hudson! Come up here for dinner!"

A few moments later the landlady walked up, curious as to what was happening. "Erika dear, what's going on?"

"We're celebrating," Erika said, handing everyone a glass of wine.

"Sherlock, what's she on about?"

"She's drunk with power, Mrs Hudson."

"With what?"

"Mrs Hudson," Erika said, cutting across their conversation with a large smile on her face. "I, a mere mortal, have been given a personal approval from none other than Mycroft Holmes himself."

Mrs Hudson smiled and nudged Sherlock as Erika disappeared into the kitchen to make dinner. "I'm glad you've found someone who makes you happy. And someone who cooks, cleans and takes care of the old woman with the dodgy hip."

Sherlock smiled a little. "I know."


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The night finished on a high. After a few glasses of wine and a good meal everyone was happy and friendly. Sherlock even had to admit that he was having a good time. Erika had cooked them all shepherd's pie and roasted vegetables, a personal favourite of hers, which had received glowing reviews around the table as it was consumed.

Finally, Mrs Hudson went downstairs again, bidding everyone goodnight and John retired to bed doing the same. Erika and Sherlock were left alone but both were occupied in their own activities. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, running through the corridors in his mind palace while Erika stood in the kitchen, doing the washing up from the night. When she finished, she turned to find Sherlock still sitting there. A part of her expected him to have left.

"Why don't you go to bed?" Erika's question cut through his daze and he looked up, seeing the clock on the wall signalling the midnight hour. He smiled a little at her concern.

"I'm fine, thinking."

"Please," she said, coming to stand beside him. "For me. Sleep."

He went to look up at her in a condescending fashion, as he would anyone else, but found that on seeing her face he couldn't. The concern in her eyes was genuine and he turned to look at the mirror, seeing the dark shadows on his face. Perhaps a night of sleep wouldn't hurt him.

"For you." And with that he stood and started to walk towards his bedroom when he noticed she wasn't following. "Are you not coming?"

"No, I'll wait for the dishwasher to finish. Goodnight." She half-smiled at him and he returned to gesture.

"Goodnight." Sherlock collapsed into bed fully clothed and was asleep within minutes, his body craving rest. He slept dreamlessly for a few hours before he was woken by noises coming from the living room. He had always been a light sleeper, his senses on high alert, so he was curious as to what was happening. He stood and silently walked out into the main room of the flat.

There, sitting on the sofa with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, was Erika. Her face was hidden by her knees but he could clearly see from the shuddering of her shoulders that she was quietly sobbing. Carefully, he walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him fast, scared by his sudden presence and he smiled softly. Erika made a desperate attempt to appear normal and dry her tears but he stopped her.

"Erika, what is it?" Sherlock tried to be soothing but his voice came out slightly harsher than he intended. She let another tear fall and turned away from him, pulling her knees ever closer to her.

"How can you stay so strong?" Her question stabbed him to the core as he realised what she was talking about. Sherlock had not openly mourned the death of their son, that wasn't to say he didn't, and she didn't know how he could. He sat down beside her and hugged her to his chest. She let out a sob before speaking again. "I wish I could be as strong as you."

"Don't," he said simply and she looked up at him. "Everything I've ever been taught told me caring was a weakness. Now I can bring it in myself to show any….emotions openly, in case someone thinks I'm weak."

"You're not weak," Erika whispered.

"I want to mourn him and I do but I don't know how. And I didn't know you were so distraught." At that she let another sob pass her lips and he hugged her tighter to him. "It breaks me to see you like this."

"Sherlock," she said, reaching up a hand to rest it on his cheek. "Mourning doesn't make you weak. It just makes you human."

He allowed himself one tear as he looked down at her, broken by the world and he promise himself he wouldn't let that happen again. "Don't do this again. Promise me you won't. I don't want you to be this broken alone."

"I promise." With that said he hugged her to him again as she cried out the remainder of her tears. He knew there was nothing he could do but be there, and so he was. It was at that moment he realised there was something he hand never told her.

"Erika," Sherlock started and she looked up at him through tear-stained eyes. He inhaled deeply before saying what had laid on his soul since the day they met. "I love you."

She let out a teary gasp and smiled weakly before laying her head back down on his chest. "I love you too."


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

When John awoke, he walked downstairs to find his two flatmates asleep on the sofa, hugging each other. He smiled and made to back out of the room when a voice stopped him.

"And where do you think you're going?" He turned to find Erika standing up, moving herself out from under Sherlock's arm. John shifted awkwardly in his place.

"I thought you were asleep."

"He is," she answered, motioning to Sherlock who was lying on the sofa. She moved into the kitchen and questioned back at John. "Coffee?"

"Uh, sure." He sat down and she handed him a cup of coffee and taking a sip from her own. They both sat down at the kitchen table. "Shouldn't we keep our voices down?"

"No," Erika said with a smile. "In the state he's in he could sleep through a hurricane."

"I thought I heard him walking about last night." Erika flinched before answering.

"Yes, he heard me…and woke up. But he'll sleep now." John was about to question her but the expression on her face indicated that the conversation was over. Instead he moved on to other matters.

"You made an excellent dinner last night." Erika smiled at him.

"It's not that hard. Anyone could have made it. But thanks none the less."

John smiled. "Sherlock's a lucky man."

"Oh," Erika asked, putting her mug down and leaning forward with her face in her hands, a teasing grin on her face. "How so?"

"Well while I was alone he was being cooked brilliant food, being well taken care of and he could spend all his time with a beautiful woman."

Erika paused for a moment before laughing. "For a moment there, I thought you were going to propose."

They both laughed a little at that. "If you weren't Sherlock's I'd have snapped you up already."

"Well it's good for me to know that if Sherlock leaves me I have a back-up plan," she said with a laugh. They both drank their coffees and Erika's curiosity got the better of her. "What do you look for in a woman, John?"

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she smiled innocently. With a quick look over to his sleeping friend, he answered. "I don't know really. Pretty would be nice. And smart. Passionate about what she does and happy; also, as strange as it sounds, someone who won't mind if I distance myself a little. With Sherlock as my best friend it's kind of necessary that they don't need me around all the time."

Erika smiled at him before a though crossed her and she turned to look at her bag hanging by the door where Mary's number still remained. She smiled cunningly. "Strange."

"What?"

"That's exactly what a friend said to me she wanted." She took a sip from her coffee cup before putting it down again. "Maybe I could set you up."

"Wait," John said, leaning forward. "A blind date?"

"Sure, why not? You both seem like the kind of people who'd get on. You'd have a great time!"

"I don't know…" John said, hesitating. "It just seems a little awkward. Going out with someone I've never even met before."

"I'll come if you want. It might help ease the tension." She watched as John thought it through and eventually decided on an answer. A small smile spread across his face.

"Sure, I'm game."

"Great," Erika said, leaping up. She grabbed Sherlock's mobile from his pocket and Mary's number from her bag and dialled it. It wasn't long before she answered.

"Hello, Mary speaking."

"Hi Mary, it's Erika. Got a second?"

"Hey, yeah sure. What is it?" Erika smiled as she spoke.

"You know how you were describing the kind of guy you wanted. I think I've found one who might just fit the bill. He's agreed that, if you want to, I can set you up."

"A blind date?"

"Yes. I'll come if you want. Interested?"

"Absolutely!" Erika could hear the enthusiasm and could practically see the grin spread across her face. Then she asked the question she was well prepared for. "What's he like?"

"Nu-uh. No hints, otherwise, what will you have to talk about. You free on Friday night?"

"Humph, fine. Friday night."

"Okay, I'll text you the place. Bye."

"Ciao." They hung up and Erika turned to face John with a grin across her face. "Friday night."

"Okay," John said with a smile. She was about to say something when the phone in Erika's hand vibrated and made a noise neither were expecting.

"_Aaah._" The sound echoed through the walls of 221B and Sherlock's eyes blinked open. He jumped up and reached for his phone, only to find it was no longer in his pocket. He turned to see Erika and John both looking at the phone in her hand. Sherlock held out his arm for it but Erika shook her head.

"What is this?" she said, looking down at the phone. She opened the message and read out the text. "_I'm back in London. Let's have dinner._ Who is this Sherlock?"

"Irene Adler. I thought she was dead," John said from behind them and Sherlock glared at him. Erika smirked and typed a quick text message. Sherlock reached for the phone, grabbing it off her in time to see the words _message sent_ glow across the screen. Quickly he went through his messages and found the reply:

_Yes. –SH_

He looked up at his girlfriend's smug face with a look of shock. "You answered yes?"

"I answered yes."

"You what!" John's reaction got both their attention for a brief moment before Erika turned back to Sherlock, grinning.

"It's not nice to lead a woman on Sherlock."

"Erika, you don't understand," Sherlock said, walking closer to her. "When Irene says dinner, she doesn't mean dinner."

"No, she means sex." Erika's upfront knowledge shocked to boys momentarily and she let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh come on, every woman knows that."

"So…why...no…what…?" Sherlock's confusion was of great amusement to her but she hated to leave him without an answer.

"Just because_ she_ means sex, doesn't mean you can't have dinner." Sherlock was about to say something else when the same orgasmic moan echoed through the room and he looked down at his phone.

_Friday, 7.30. The Royale_

Erika looked down at his phone and smiled. "Sounds like a nice night."

Sherlock looked at her and glared, she smiled childishly. "You're coming with me."

"Can't," she said, putting her arm around John's shoulder. "John and I have a date."

"You what?"

"Oh calm down, I'm setting him up with a friend. I'm just going to ease the tension. Besides," she said with a wicked grin, "surely you can handle a dominatrix by yourself."


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The week came and went fast. Erika had spent the week being harassed by John about who his date was, to which she flat out refused to answer, and glared at by Sherlock for setting him up. Needless to say, she spent the week with a smug grin on her face.

Finally, Friday night arrived and John, Sherlock and Erika were all ready to go out. Sherlock had refused to wear anything but his normal attire while John had put on a decent suit and tie and Erika was wearing a short, black dress. All three piled in the cab, headed in the same direction but John and Erika got out first. She kissed Sherlock on the cheek and wished him luck. He grimaced and drove away as Erika and John stood on the curb laughing. After a moment, they turned and walked toward the building.

"You won't even tell me her name?" John asked, worried by her vagueness. Erika sighed, stopped in her tracks and turned to face him.

"I will tell you her name, at the same time I tell her your name; when I introduce you. Come on, I told her to meet us outside." They stood outside the little restraint for a little while, John tapping his foot anxiously, before a yell distracted them both.

"Erika!" They both turned to see Mary, dressed in a sea green dress with white heels and jacket. She smiled at her and waved before noticing John and suddenly becoming quite shy. She walked up to them slowly and Erika laughed.

"Hello dear," she said, kissing her on the cheek, as she had done to her friends when she was little. She then turned to address them both. "Since you've both been asking, John Watson, meet Mary Morstan."

"Hello John."

"Hi." Erika could almost taste the awkwardness in the air, so she motioned for them to go inside. They did so and she followed, raising two fingers to the waiter waiting to take them to a table. He smiled and nodded, showing them all to a small table I the corner of the room. She motioned for the pair to sit down and they did while she remained standing. She smiled down at the couple.

"Right, I'm off. Now enjoy yourselves my dears." She started to walk away but John's voice stopped her.

"What, you're not staying."

"No, I can't I'm afraid," she said, turning back with a smile. "Sherlock and I have another engagement, dinner with a dominatrix. I have to be there to ensure Miss Adler doesn't try anything on him. Well, nothing to bad anyways. Bye, have fun!"

And with that she was gone. The pair who remained at the table watched after her before turning to each other and laughing. "Well that was awkward."

"Yes, it was," John answered, paying careful attention to the past tense. He found that, in Erika leaving, the tension had dispersed and they were both at ease. He smiled and Mary did the same. Perhaps this date wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought.

Sherlock, however, couldn't say the same. He waited in dread for Irene. As much as he hated to admit, he did fancy the woman once, but now he couldn't shift the knot in the pit of his stomach as the guilt set in. What if he ruined things with Erika? He couldn't hurt her again.

He sat at a table against a wall in the restraint with his eyes closed, desperately trying to block out all the noise around him. The information her kept picking up was starting to overwhelm him as he had no one thing to focus on. Waiting anxiously, he began drumming his fingers on the table, putting his entire mind into a perfect recital of Romance No. 2 in F Major on the wood. He was halfway through when a voice interrupted him.

"I hope you won't mind me coming along." He opened his eyes and saw Erika smiling down at him. "I felt like an intruder with the others. Would you rather I left?"

"No," Sherlock answered a little too eagerly and pulled her down into the seat next to him. She smiled at him and looked down at his fingers, still drumming their rhythm. She stared at them for a moment before a smile crossed her face. "One of Beethoven's finest, don't you think?"

He smiled at her, about to answer when her eyes, turned to the other side of the room. "We have a guest."

"Hello Sherlock, dear," Irene purred, kissing Sherlock on the cheek. He remained icy but both saw him stiffen. She was wearing a short, deep blue dress with a deep neckline and open back. She had a thick, leather belt around her waist and a pair of high, black heels on. She smiled at Sherlock before turning to Erika. She straightened up and smiled slightly. "And who's this pretty, little thing?"

"Erika Butler," Erika said as Irene sat down across from Sherlock. "I'm the chaperone for tonight."

"Oh no dear, you're more than that by the way he keeps looking at you." Both women turned to look at Sherlock who was now staring intently at the roof. Erika smirked a little.

"Perhaps," she stood up. "I'll get us all a drink."

And with that she was gone. Irene leant forward and smiled at Sherlock who looked her in the eye icily. She laughed. "So who is the pretty thing, really?"

Sherlock was about to answer but Irene seemed to have seen straight through him again. The smiled on her lips faded as she spoke. "She's the one, isn't she?"

"What?" Sherlock asked, confused.

"Everyone has one exception to who they are. John's straight and I'm gay, but we'd both have you in a heartbeat. You're asexual, she's your exception." Sherlock didn't say anything; instead he looked down at the wood on the table. Irene let out a sad laugh. "And here I was thinking it might be me."

"I'm sorry, Irene." Sherlock looked at her with genuine apology and Irene smiled sadly. It was at that moment Erika returned with three champagne glasses. Irene saw her and stood hastily, smiling slightly.

"Goodnight, Mr Holmes, Miss Butler."

"Goodnight, Miss Adler." Sherlock spoke and Irene began to walk away but Erika stopped her.

"I'm sorry, what's happening? Should I leave?"

"No, no dear," Irene said sadly. "You stay."

"But why don't you?"

"Because you're the exception," she said with a smile before she took a step back and kissed Sherlock on the cheek before whispering, "Cherish her."

Then she was gone. Erika stood bemused for a moment before turning to Sherlock. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing she didn't already know," he answered with a sigh. "Let's go."

"No." Erika pushed him back in his chair and sat down across from him. She picked up a champagne glass and raised it in a toasting gesture. "You still owe me a date."

Sherlock smirked before picking up one of the other glasses and raising it, gently tapping the glasses together. "I suppose I do."

Erika smirked and took a sip from her drink and Sherlock did the same. They ate and talked for a short while before Erika could see how irritated Sherlock was getting with everyone else being so loud. Eventually, she let out a sigh and stood up. He looked up at her, confused and she smiled.

"Come on." He didn't question her and followed her out of the restraint, leaving money on the table. She smiled as they walked along the road. Finally, Sherlock had to ask.

"Where are we going?"

"I know how you hate noise," she said with a smile. "And I could see how agitated you were, so I thought I'd show you something. It's not far."

She took his hand as they walked up and down streets, twisting through the buildings of London by night. Erika never let go of his hand, leading him as if her were a small child that could run at any moment, perhaps he was. Eventually, they came to a small, rundown building that might once have been majestic. She smiled and pulled him gently inside.

When they entered, Sherlock was amazed by what he saw. There was only one room but it was big and spacious. There was no light but he could still see the glittering of mirrors all around the room. Erika lit a candle in the corner and from the small light he could see the room was filled with boxes, of every size, shape and type. She smiled and came to stand by him. He looked down at her and she smiled slightly. "You showed me your home. Sherlock Holmes, this is mine."

Sherlock was speechless as he looked around the room again, taking in all the beauty in the dark space. Erika took his hand again as she spoke. "When we first met, back all that time ago, I was living here. Despite all the things I stole, there was little I could sell, so I didn't have the money to buy anything grand. This little space became my home. Then in the hospital, when I saw you again, I could resist being near you, so I left it. But now, I thought you might like to see."

Still amazed by the subtle beauty, Sherlock looked around the room. Erika pulled him around it and finally he found his voice. "What's in the boxes?"

"Look and see." With that permission granted, Sherlock approached a pile in the corner. He opened the one closest to him, a small black shoebox, and found it filled with old photographs, letters and drawings. Erika looked around him and down into the box. She smiled sadly. "These boxes are all I have left of them."

Sherlock picked up one of the photos and saw a man and woman holding a baby. The woman was tall and slender, not unlike Erika except she had gold hair that flowed down to her waist. She was wearing a long, loose dress that fell down to her toes. The man was dressed in suit. He was slightly plumper but still fit. He was also tall with dark hair cut short. Both were smiling at the camera joyously, looking down at the baby in the woman's arms. Erika appeared to be yawning widely in the picture. Beside him, Sherlock heard a sad laugh.

"They always told me I'd be the greatest of all people and live a long and happy life. Look at me now." Sherlock reached down to the bottom of the box and, from under all the stacks of paper, pulled a small toy rabbit. It's fur, once white, was now yellowing and it's button eyes looked like they had been stitched on again. Erika reached out and stroked it's head softly. He turned to see her eyes glistening with tears.

"They were right, Erika," Sherlock said, closing the box again. Erika looked up at him sadly, confused by his words. "You will be the greatest of people and live a long and happy life. You just need to…"

"Forget the hurt," Erika finished with a smiled. "I will, if you help me."

Sherlock nodded and leant down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She smiled against him and, after a moment, he pulled away. "Let's go home."

She nodded, and they walked out the door, leaving the hurt behind.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Time passed quickly at 221B and before they were aware, it had been almost a year since Erika's return. Mary was around most days and she and Erika grew closer with every visit. Sherlock spent more time sitting in the corner, sulking, because he wasn't the centre of attention. Often, they just ignored him but every now and then they had to take pity on him and give him something to do. Erika had turned his entertainment into a test.

"Sherlock. Man standing by the post box."

Sherlock glanced out through the kitchen window. "Widower recently back from military service. Suffers from partial deafness in his left ear and has a child."

"Children," Erika corrected with a smirk. He looked again and frowned.

"Yes, children."

"How could you possibly-?" John started but he didn't get time to finish before Sherlock cut him off.

"Wearing black and is carrying his own shopping bags yet he has a wedding ring on his finger, indicating a recently departed wife. Has the same tan lines and stance you have indicating military service. His partial deafness is obvious from the way he's twisting his head to hear the traffic around him and his _children_," he said, glancing over at Erika, "are shown by his carrying a picture book and a rattle, indicating different ages."

"Bravissimi," Erika said with a smile, leaning down to kiss him quickly on the cheek. Sherlock twitched a little, still not entirely used to the contact. Erika turned back to the dishes she was doing as Sherlock's phone rang. John, who was now standing in the living room, picked it up and threw it to Sherlock, who caught it without looking away from the window. He pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?" There was a long pause before a small smile appeared on his face. "Of course. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He stood quickly and turned to John. "We've got a case."

"Ah, I think I'll sit this one out." Sherlock turned from where he was at his bedroom door.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I've, um…" John shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I've got a date with Mary."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he stood up a little straighter. His brow furrowed as he looked at his friend before he came to some sort of conclusion, his eyes widening. He turned to Erika who glared at him and he regained his composure.

"Fine." Sherlock disappeared into his room, re-emerging a few minutes later, properly dressed. He grabbed his coat and scarf and left without saying another word. John guiltily looked at Erika who merely shrugged in response and smiled.

"You're not chained to his side. Go see Mary." She turned back to her job but John's question stopped her in her tracks.

"What did he see?"

"What do you mean?" She said, turning again to face him.

"I mean," John said, stepping into the kitchen. "He looked me up and down before noticing something. I know he did. What did he see?"

"I don't know."

"You do." His words came out harsher than intended and Erika flinched inadvertently. John smiled at her, trying to avoid sounding angry and she allowed a half smile to cross her lips.

"You know what he saw." And with that she returned to her task, as John realised what they both new. He cursed under his breath and Erika couldn't hold back a giggle. With her back still to him she said, "He won't say a word, and neither will I. Now go, or you'll be late."

John turned to the clock on the other side of the room and saw he was in fact running a little late. He quickly gathered his things and, with a quick goodbye to Erika, he left. She stayed there for the rest of the day, chuckling at the unfortunate pair. Sherlock and John were lucky they hadn't killed each other yet.

As the afternoon turned into the evening, the rain that had been tapping gently at the window all day grew heavier until it sounded like stones being thrown at the wall. Erika sighed and curled up a little tighter on the sofa, her book pulled closely to her. She wasn't expecting John back and she had no idea when Sherlock would return. For now she was just enjoying the silence.

It was about eight o'clock when she heard the door open. For the way he walked, she knew it was Sherlock, but there was something wrong. His steps seemed out of balance. She closed her book and stood, opening the door to reveal Sherlock Holmes soaked to the skin and shivering violently. Erika couldn't hold back a gasp of surprise and she pulled him into the room. His skin was like ice.

"What did you do? Take a dip in the Thames?" Sherlock tried to glare at her but could only manage a grimace as his teeth chattered angrily against each other. Erika pulled him into the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. Sherlock wrapped his arms around himself and managed to get a few words out.

"W-w-where's J-John?"

"He went out with Mary, remember?" Sherlock managed a slight hiss of annoyance before another wave of cold hit him and he shuddered violently. He felt like his blood had turned to ice. Erika turned to him and saw Sherlock, soaked to the skin with his lips turning blue. "Now, strip."

Sherlock looked up at her coldly. "R-r-really? T-t-time and p-p-p-place."

"Oh for God's sake, it's not for MY benefit!" She said, anger and concern both rising in her voice. "Your lips are blue! You're hypothermic! Those clothes aren't going to do you any good and you need to get warm as fast as possible. Strip."

Sherlock would have found back but her was so cold and her argument made sense to him. He made to undo the buttons on his shirt but found his hands were shaking so much that he couldn't work it. Erika saw and moved his hands away. She undid the buttons on his jacket and shirt and pulled them off him. Then she knelt down in front of him and untied his shoes. He stepped out of them and she pulled off his socks. Then she undid his pants and pulled them off. Then she stood back up and pushed him, naked, into the shower. The hat water hit him and he let out a yelp before sighing into it.

"Get out when you're warm, not before." He heard the door close as she left and he sighed, still shuddering slightly but the water was warming him up quickly. He stayed there for over fifteen minutes until his skin felt red and scorched under the water. He stepped out, dried himself off and dressed himself in his pyjamas which had been laid out just outside the door. His soaking clothes had been taken from the room and he allowed himself a small smile.

Walking out to the living room, he saw Erika curled up on the sofa with the book she had abandoned when he came in. Childishly, he lay down, putting his feet on her lap. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow but he merely smirked. She closed the book and turned to face him fully. "How do you feel?"

"Cold," he answered, wrapping another arm around himself. Erika's eyes narrowed and he double-took. "I'm fine now."

"Then tell me why you were drenched. And where's your coat and scarf?"

"Left them at the Yard," he murmured, not really listening to her. She poked him and he answered the rest of her question. "Lestrade needed me for a case. I was following a lead, got into a fight with the suspect and he ended up throwing me into the, as you said before, Thames."

"And at no point did you think, 'perhaps I ought to dry off?'" Erika said, her voice dripping with condescension. He glared at her and she smirked.

"I needed to catch him but he got away. Then the rain started and I'd left all my money in my coat. It was faster to walk here than back to the Yard."

Erika huffed a little as she heard him talk. She hated the idea of him wandering the street in the condition he came back to her. She was pulled out of the trance of her thoughts by Sherlock shuddering. Her head snapped up and their eyes met. Without hesitation she stood up and pulled him up as well.

"What are you doing?"

"You're still cold."

"So?" It was at this point Erika pushed him down into his bed. She pulled the covers up over him and sat on the edge.

"So, I don't want you to get pneumonia just to annoy John and get attention. Stay here, stay warm and sleep."

"Why?"

"Why?" she said, looking at him partly amused, partly infuriated. "because I know you haven't slept properly in two days and you're freezing. Go to sleep."

"Only if you stay." The words were out of his mouth before he could really think and Erika smiled. She leant down and kissed his lips which were still a little icy.

"Fine, just give me a minute." She left and returned a few minutes later, dressed in one of Sherlock's old pyjama shirts. She slipped into bed and Sherlock put his arm around her, his face nuzzled in her neck.

"You're warm." His words were muffled against her skin but she heard, and felt, them perfectly. She smiled and leant into him.

"Goodnight Sherlock."


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Erika woke up slowly the next morning, to content and warm to move. She felt and arm around her middle with a hand now resting on her back. She smiled slightly and opened her eyes to see Sherlock Holmes staring at her with grey eyes. She closed her eyes a little ad smiled wider. "Good morning."

"Good Morning," he answered, moving his arm to rub her shoulder through the fabric. "John and Mary are in the kitchen."

"Oh," Erika said, still not wanting to move.

"They've been there for over half an hour. I think they're waiting for us."

"Bugger," Erika said as she peeled herself away from Sherlock and stood up, getting out of bed and pulling his dressing gown around her. She turned to face the dark haired man still lying there. "Come on. Don't make them wait. I want to hear what they have to say that's so important."

"I already now." The sadness in his voice made her double-take and she sighed, sitting back down on the bed.

"So do I but we have to let them tell us."

"Now?" Sherlock whined childishly and Erika giggled.

"Yes now. Get up."

"But it's warm here." Before he could react, he found his red dressing gown hurled at his head, covering his face. He pulled it off and found Erika grinning at him like an idiot. He couldn't hold back a smirk as he stood up and put it on before mock-glaring at her. She laughed and they walked out into the kitchen.

John and Mary were sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of each of them, neither had been touched. John was tapping his foot nervously and Mary was staring down at the coffee in her hands. Despite the clear anxiety present in each of them, neither could hide the giddy smile across their faces. When Sherlock and Erika walked out, both looked up at them.

"Good morning John, Mary," Erika said pouring herself and Sherlock some coffee before sitting down. Sherlock merely did a gruff nod as a greeting. John and Mary glanced anxiously at each other. "How did last night go?"

Mary burst into a fit of giggles and John grinned widely. Sherlock glanced between the pair, unimpressed but Erika smiled a little. "You know conversations tend to work better if both sides talk."

"Oh, Erika!" Mary said, standing up. "We're engaged!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as Erika and Mary embraced. John smiled, watching the pair before meeting Sherlock's eye. Sherlock's face was impassive but seemed just the slightest bit sad. However, before John could confirm it, he hid it behind his mask perfected over years.

"You haven't even known each other a year," Sherlock said, his voice a monotone. Erika turned o glare at him but Mary and John couldn't be swayed. They were both still grinning widely and they all sat down.

"Well, I think it's fantastic news. Congratulations!" Erika said, turning to Sherlock who said nothing. Covering as best she could, she spoke for him. "From both of us."

"Thank-you," Mary said before shooting a look at John. He hesitated and she motioned her head slightly towards the pair, urging him to talk. Finally, he did.

"Uhm, well on the subject of both of you, we'd obviously like you both to come."

"Obviously," Sherlock interrupted. Erika nudged him violently in the ribs and he hissed slightly. She glared at him before turning back to John.

"Well…we'd like you to…I mean if you want…well…"

"Oh for the love of God," Mary said with an exasperated sigh. John blushed and smiled sheepishly. "Sherlock, John wants you to be his best man and I'd like you, Erika, to be my Maid of Honour."

There was silence around the table for a good five seconds before Sherlock spoke. "Why?"

This was a question that no-one else around the table had anticipated and they all turned to look at him, confused, so he elaborated. "You've got other friends. Friends you've known longer than me and probably a lot nicer than me. Why me?"

"Because you're my best friend." Sherlock recoiled a little at that, seemingly unsure what to say. Mary and Erika both smiled at each other, biting back laughter at the situation. Finally Sherlock answered.

"Fine." John breathed a visible sigh of relief and leant back in his chair before turning to Erika. All eyes were on her and she visibly shrunk away. Mary looked at her confused and Erika stuttered an scared response to all their question.

"You've only known me for a little while, just a week longer than John. And…I don't know if I could…I mean…are you sure this isn't just because Sherlock…"

"Don't be ridiculous," Mary said leaning forward and putting her hand over Erika's. "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't want you. And you introduced us, which makes you one of the most important women in my life."

Erika smiled and laughed a little. "Alright then."

Mary clapped a little and they both caught a glimpse of the ring on her finger. Erika grabbed her hand so she could look at it. It was gold with a single, large diamond raised up on it. The woman both looked down at it admiringly before Erika looked up at John, a warning in her eyes. "You hurt her, and I will hurt you."

Mary laughed a little and John nodded before a smiled crossed his face. Soon they were all laughing with the exception of one high-functioning sociopath. Erika then turned to him. "So where's my ring?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her and Mary and John watched them both closely. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well they've known each other less time than us and they're engaged."

"What, you want to get married?" Sherlock said, amused. Erika let out a laugh.

"No, but I want a ring." The meaning was lost on the other couple but Sherlock and Erika both smirked at each other before laughing. John looked between them, confused but didn't get an answer. Erika turned to Mary. "So have you made any arrangements?"

"No," Mary said with a sigh. "But we probably should. I just don't know where to start?"

John nodded in silent agreement and Erika thought for a moment before speaking. "What about venue?"

"I'm not sure. Something reasonably small, we only want a small ceremony, but bright; a big, open space with mirrors on the wall." Mary's eyes then went from the dreamy state they had been in to one of reality as she sunk back into her seat. "At least that's the dream I had when I was a kid. Where would you find a room like that now days?"

Sherlock and Erika both looked at each other, coming to the same conclusion. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and Erika nodded. "I think I know a place."

"Really?" Mary's voice was so filled with hope that Erika couldn't supress her smile.

"Yes. I can show you now if you like."

The soon-to-be newlyweds look at each other and John nodded. Mary turned back to Erika and nodded as well. Erika smiled widely at them. "Great. Give us a few minutes to get changed."

She dragged Sherlock away from the table and the pair got dressed hastily before going back out to find John and Mary kissing intensely. Sherlock cleared his throat loudly and the two shot apart. Mary blushed crimson and Erika giggled. "Come on, it's not a long walk."

The four made to leave when John turned to look at Sherlock, quizzical, he asked, "where's your coat."

"Scotland Yard," Sherlock answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?"

"Because I left it there. Can we just go?"

"Sherlock, you'll catch your death out there without your coat."

"I think I'll survive."

"Oh, come on. You're not super human. You'll get sick if history's anything to go by."

"I'll be fine."

"Sherlock just-"

"I'll be fine."

"Sherlock-"

"Shut up, the pair of you," Erika said. The two men had been so absorbed in their conversation that they hadn't noticed Erika go back into Sherlock's room and retrieve his coat and scarf. She held them out to him. "You two argue like a pair of old Queens. Could we go now?"

"When did you-?" Sherlock started.

"I texted Lestrade while you were in the shower yesterday and he sent it over. Did I ask if we could go?"

Sherlock begrudgingly put on his coat and scarf and the four headed out. They walked for about twenty minutes, Erika in front, John and Mary holding hands behind her and Sherlock behind them, following slowly. Finally, they reached a rather run down, old Victorian style building. Mary looked at it in awe and sadness.

"What's this?" John said, his voice laced with distaste.

"It's my home," Erika said bitterly. John bit his tongue and looked down at the ground. Erika sighed. "It's much nice inside, I swear."

They walked in and found the same thing that Sherlock had seen when he'd first come here, but now it was all in the light, everything was so much clearer. The walls of the room were in fact covered with large mirrors. The boxes were still everywhere but now he noticed a small cot in the corner of the room. It saddened him to know she had lived her for a very long time. Mary and John both looked around the room in awe. Above them, a dusty, old chandelier hung by three chains from the ceiling. Mary walked forward and stood just beneath it, a grin on her face.

"This place is perfect." Erika smiled happily as Mary continued. "We'll have to clean it up a bit and fix a few things but I think it's wonderful. What do you think John?"

"Perfect," John spluttered out and Erika smiled. Sherlock walked over and hugged her to his side. Mary continued to circle the room, talking an endless list of ideas to John who seemed to be taking it all in by Sherlock and Erika were elsewhere. Neither of them were listening to the couple because all their focus was on the warmth radiating from the other.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

The next few months passed in a sort of daze. All of Erika, Mary and John's attention seemed to be focused on the upcoming wedding. Sherlock, however, was doing everything he could to distance himself from it. Despite his attempts, he was weak to Erika, and so it came to be that two weeks before the wedding, the four of them were moving all the boxes out of Erika's room.

John and Sherlock were carrying the contents of the room outside, each of their arms was filled with boxes, some piled up so high they couldn't really see. They took them out to where Mary's car and the two women were waiting to pack them in tightly to the small car. Every time Sherlock walked out, his eyes met Erika's in a dark I-can't-believe-you-made-me-do-this glare and every time Erika just smirked and took the boxes off him.

This long process continued for over an hour before both of the men came out carrying triumphantly little. John bounded out, a grin on his face, and put the boxes down on the ground. "The room's all clear except for the bed. You should see it, it's gorgeous."

Without further ado he wrapped his arm around Mary's waist and led her inside. Erika smiled after them and proceeded to pack the last of the boxes away. Sherlock stood watching, leaning against the car with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. With every box she lifted, her eyes got a little sadder, as she knew what she was really packing away. With the last box squeezed into the car, she shut the doors and leant back against the car beside him, exhausted.

"You can bring it back you know," Sherlock said and Erika turned to look at him. He motioned to the contents of the car. "You can bring it all back here. You're not packing it away for good."

"Yes I am. I can't bring it all back here," she answered with a sigh. Sherlock stood up straight and looked at her, bemused. She smiled sadly. "Mary had this idea, which is great I suppose. She said I should rent to room out for functions and weddings because of its…she said unusual look."

"And you're going to?"

"Well, I don't have a job Sherlock," she said, leaning forward. "And it's not like I 'm likely to be employed by anyone anytime soon. And I promised you years ago I'd stop my thieving ways, something I've kept to, so I don't have much choice."

"I've got money."

"I don't want to have to rely on you."

"Mycroft can-"

"Sherlock." The way she said his name stopped him mid-sentence. She stood up and pressed a hand to his cheek. "I want to do this. Like I said before, leave the hurt behind."

He nodded and Erika smiled widely. He leant down to kiss her but before he could a voice came from the doorway. "Erika, Mary wants permission to photograph the room."

She pulled away from Sherlock with a laugh as he pouted. "Tell her to go for her life."

"Thanks," John said as he disappeared back into the house. Erika grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him towards the building. They walked in and saw Mary lying on the ground in the centre of the room with her camera on her stomach. She was idly pressing the button, occasionally lifting it to look at what she had taken. John stood chuckling in the corner of the room, well out of her way. Erika smirked and her inner urge to cause trouble took over.

Without thinking, she quietly walked over to Mary who was too distracted to notice her. Then, without warning, she cartwheeled over her and her camera. Mary let out a shriek of surprised before breaking down into laughter. Erika stood a metre or so away and was laughing just as hard. Mary quickly went to her play back before roaring with laughter. "Now there's one for the album!"

She turned to camera around and showed Erika who grinned widely. She then turned the display to John who let out a very unmanly giggle. Sherlock stood in the doorway, watching the entire spectacle with an amused smirk on his face. Erika motioned for him to come over and he did. With him standing beside her, and Mary beside John, the four looked around the room, impressed with their days work. Then John raised a pointing hand. "What do you want us to do with the bed?"

They all turned to look at the sad piece of furniture sitting desolate in the corner. Erika detached herself from Sherlock and walked over to it, sitting on its starchy blanket. She ran the material between her fingers briefly before looking up to find three pairs of eyes fixed on her. She shook her head, as if shaking off an unwanted thought, and spoke. "I'm not sure. It won't fit in Mary's car."

"It might if we dismantle it?" Mary suggested and Erika gripped the fabric tightly and went white. Sherlock was the first to pick up on this and quickly rushed to her side. She looked up at him beside her and shook her head again; still trying to remove thoughts from her head but Sherlock wouldn't stand for it. He stared at her, as did the rest of the room, and finally she caved.

"I spent so long here, alone in the dark. I can't explain it but…I just can't…I can't _break_ it."

"Then we won't," Sherlock said solemnly, looking to the rooms other occupants. They nodded in agreement and she let her grip loosen a little. "We'll find some other way to move it."

Erika nodded and regained some of her colour. They talked for a minute before compromising, agreeing to partially dismantle it, only enough to fit it in the car and nothing more. Erika slowly pulled it apart, insisting she be the only one who touched it, before it became three smaller parts and was packed into the car. Mary and John drove it back to 221B whilst Erika and Sherlock decided to walk back. They didn't touch each other or speak the entire way.

When they arrived, they found John, Mary and Mrs Hudson at the entrance, all taking the boxes out of the car and piling them up at the bottom of the stairs. As they approached, Mary gave them a wave and pointed to the back seat. "The bed's in there. I haven't touched it."

"Thanks." Erika walked over and slowly pulled out the pieces of her bed. She felt sick even handling them pulled apart but she knew that she had too. Slowly, she carried them inside, up the stairs and into Sherlock bedroom where she assembled it quickly in a corner. Once it was back in one piece, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders and she smiled. She ran her hand over the familiar beams and turned to walk out, only to find a consulting detective standing obnoxiously in the doorframe.

"What's so special about that bed?"

"It was mine for a long time."

"No, that's too simple," he said, walking forward until he was looming over her. "What's _really_ important about it?"

Erika chocked back a gasp at the force in his words before coming back to reality and answering slowly. "My Dad made it for me when I was seven. He said he'd make me a bigger one when I was seventeen but…"

The pain in her words made Sherlock regret even asking. He wrapped his arms around he and she rested her head on his chest. She smiled a little at the warmth and let out a sad sigh. "I told you that room was everything I had left of them. I wasn't lying, Sherlock."

"I know," he answered softly before lifting her chin and planting a soft kiss on her lips. "All your things are in the living room which you can put where ever you like, be it the back of the cupboard or on the mantelpiece."

"Thank-you, Sherlock." They walked out and found Mary, John and Mrs Hudson having a cup of tea at the table. Erika smiled and sat down next to them where Mary pushed a cup of tea in front of her. She smiled and looked around the table to see Mrs Hudson beaming at her.

"I can't tell you how happy I am for you boys," the old woman said with a smile. "John's getting married to a gorgeous young woman and Sherlock's found someone who can clear the table faster than he can mess it up."

There was laughter around the table, even a small chuckle from Sherlock. John raised his mug in the air with a smile. "To tomorrow?"

"To forever," Mary said with a smile, clicking her mug against his.

"To forever," Erika echoed, looking at Sherlock who smiled back at her as they all cheers-ed.

"Forever."


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Sherlock stood beside a nervous John, waiting at the end of the aisle. There was a long, white sheet of fabric laid out between two large groups of chairs. In the front row, Lestrade sat calmly with his wife, looking around the room and Mrs Hudson smiled proudly, like a glowing mother, up at the pair. Harry and Clara sat beside her, the couple had mended their marriage and were now happier than ever. Harry said she was clean but Sherlock's constant nagging suggested Otherwise. The rest of the rows were filled with friends and family he hardly recognised anymore.

The room itself was gorgeous, the mirrors magnifying its beauty. The chandelier above them had been fixed and now glowed brightly. There were tables and chairs set up at the back of the room, ready for the reception, each one with a bunch of blue flowers sitting on it. The top of the mirrored walls had been draped with black lace for added elegance and the chairs had been fixed to match. It was now on his wedding day, just a few minutes before the ceremony, that John turned to Sherlock with a genuine warning.

"Sherlock, I swear to God, if you fuck this up for me I'll-"

"I won't," Sherlock said, looking his friend right in the eye. "I may not be thrilled about your wedding but I'm not going to sabotage it."

John eyed him warily and Sherlock let out a sigh. "I'm a sociopath, yes. But rarely am I just pointlessly cruel."

"I have my doubts," John muttered, turning to look down the aisle at the door at the end, tapping his foot nervously. Sherlock grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John quickly realised what Sherlock must have thought and he shook his head with a smile.

"That's not what I meant. I have my doubts about you being a sociopath."

Sherlock stiffened. "Why?"

"Because of Erika." Sherlock was about to press for what he meant by that when violin music started to play and everyone stood. Sherlock quickly let go of John's shoulder and they both turned to the door, just in time to see it open.

Standing in the doorway was Erika, wearing a deep-blue dress with a white sash that fell straight to the floor. It had a low neckline but she had covered all her scars with make-up. Her hair hung loose but was styled with light curls around her face. In her hands she was holding a bouquet of white flowers. She smiled as she slowly started to move down the aisle, revealing Mary.

John let out a small gasp when he saw her. Mary's light brown hair had been pulled back and styled so that it showed off her face as well as accommodated the veil that flowed behind her. There were blue and white jewels in her hair and she smiled at John. Her dress was a pure white with a deep blue sash around her waist. It expanded from the hip subtly to accentuate her curves and fell to the floor. It was strapless but in the place of straps, a droplet necklace hung with a tear shaped diamond hanging off it. She held a bouquet of deep blue flowers as she walked, following Erika. When they both reached the end, John took her hand and they turned to face the priest.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of Mary Louise Morstan and John Hamish Watson in holy matrimony. If anyone has any just cause why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Erika shot Sherlock a warning look across the couple and Sherlock bit his tongue, fighting the urge to be cruel. When the priest moved on, Erika breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention back to the couple now making their vows.

"I, John Hamish Watson, take you, Mary Louise Morstan, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness." He slipped a gold wedding band onto her finger and she smiled widely at him, tears in her eyes.

"I, Mary Louise Morstan, take you, John Hamish Watson, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness." She slipped a matching band onto his finger and they both smiled at each other. The priest closed his bible and looked at the two.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." They both leant forward and their lips met. As they did, the small crowd there clapped and stood in their place. They pulled apart and John took Mary's hand, leading her down the aisle to the back of the room. Erika smiled as she watched them and moved forward, taking Sherlock's hand and they followed them.

The reception was a small affair, with Sherlock and Erika both giving their speeches. Sherlock raised a few grimaces when he stood but delivered his speech well enough to earn a tentative clap from everyone else. Erika delivered a short speech which had everyone laughing and content. As the night grew later, the chairs were cleared and people, following the newlyweds started to dance. Everyone was dancing but on couple who stood at the back of the room.

They watched their two best friends dancing in silence for a while. Sherlock looked slightly awkward which always made Erika smile. She turned to face him with a smirk. "o, your best friend got married. How are we feeling about that?"

"Resentful," he answered bitterly, without looking away from the pair twirling happily. The smile fell from Erika's face and she sighed.

"He'll still be there for you, Sherlock. He'll always have time for you." Sherlock didn't acknowledge that she had spoken, still staring ahead at his now married friend. Erika, frustrated by him, tried a new tactic and moved so she was standing in his line of sight. "Either way, you've got me."

This got his attention and he looked at her, smirking. "Yes, I do. And on that note…"

He paused and reached a hand into his breast pocket, pulling out a small ring box. Erika couldn't help but let out a laugh, knowing this wasn't what it looked like.

"Are you proposing to me, Sherlock Holmes?" He chuckled lightly with her.

"No, I'm not the type." He opened to box and nestled between the black velvet sat a silver ring. It had a single, large emerald glistening in the centre with two small diamonds on either side. "You said you couldn't sell my ring because it signalled the beginning of the end. Well, I thought this could signify a new beginning. For both of us."

Erika smiled as he took the ring out of the box and fit it on the middle finger of her left hand. How he knew her ring size she didn't know but it fit perfectly. She smiled up at him and he pulled her close to him, kissing her softly. She smiled against his lips and pulled him closer.

When they pulled apart, Sherlock put his arm around Erika's waist and they returned to watching the newlywed's dance. Smiling contently and staring down at her ring, she spoke. "Did you know that your name describes who you are. At least, to me."

"Which is?" he asked curiously. Erika turned to face him and pressed another soft kiss to his lips. She pulled away, with her hand still on his cheek, and smiled warmly at him. "Home."

**THE END**


End file.
